


Streetwalker

by Artemis_Day



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe- All Human, F/M, drabble that became a story, prostitute Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Day/pseuds/Artemis_Day
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nothing Jane will be proud of the next morning, just a tiny lapse in good judgement, but the streetwalker is in her life now, and for better or worse, he's here to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally part of my drabble collection, The Science of Lies, but you guys wanted to see more of Loki the prostitute... oh wait, I'm sorry, Loki the male escort, so here you go.

Jane Foster was not a desperate woman.  She wasn’t even a lonely one (okay, maybe a little bit _sometimes_ ).  What she was was a single, working woman moving up the corporate ladder, reading scientific texts on the side and saving up for her annual week in the summer to Norway with her godfather. He’d been doing very well since retiring to the mountains, and Jane was eager to see him again.

She had a small pool of friends, if not very close ones.  Most were left over from her high school days.  At least one was a former intern she had never lost touch with.  All of them had gone on to their own lives, with careers and families and all that jazz.  Darcy had been the last of them, marrying the sweet and somewhat dorky Ian just three months ago.  Already, they were expecting their first child from a rather wild honeymoon, as Darcy described it.

Jane was happy for her, she really was.  She was happy for all her friends, but maybe there were times, when she had a slow day at work and nothing good was on TV, when thoughts of what it would be like to have a significant other again came to mind.  So what if her first (and so far last) big attempt hadn’t worked out?  It wasn’t her fault she and Don had grown apart.  These things just happened sometimes.  Fairy tales were for storybooks and real life did not come with happy endings.  Not completely happy anyway.

But none of that was the reason she had found herself in this ‘bad’ part of town, driving along an empty road amid neon street signs and scantily clad woman in gaudy make-up, walking up and down the street turning tricks.  It had absolutely nothing to do with the wedding announcement for Donald Blake and his beautiful fiancee, whatsherface (Jane had forgotten), complete with sickeningly sweet photograph of them hugging, with Don kissing the woman’s cheek as she beamed.  It was definitely not because of the necklace the woman wore, which looked rather suspiciously like the one Don was going to give Jane for Christmas before they broke up.  

Jane would never admit to anything.

If anyone asked, she was just another lonely, pathetic old maid to be looking for a night of excitement.  Nothing more, nothing less.

A few of the many female prostitutes eyed her car as she drove by, only to lose interest once they saw it was a woman behind the wheel.  One of them kept watching, but now it was Jane who was uninterested in her.  She kept driving.

On the curb near the end of the street, she considered turning back and trying again.  Finding a male escort was proving harder than she thought.  The only ones she’d seen so far were either taken, smelled like sweat, or were looking to be picked up by men only.  It was a real shame that this wasn’t working out for her.  Her favorite old vibrator back home would just have to do…

"Pardon me, but are you lost?"

Jane had stopped the car for just a minute to check her GPS.  The voice came from the street corner, where the man with a newspaper that covered his face folded it neatly under his arm, revealing himself to Jane.  For a moment, she forgot to breathe.  She hoped she didn’t look as stupid as she felt, gaping like a fish in the face of the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life.  She used to think Don would always hold that title.  Boy, had she not seen anything yet.

The man was tall and thin with angular features, and he wore a black suit and tie that was way too fancy to have been a prostitute’s get-up.  Most likely, he was another one looking for some action tonight.  Too bad.  Maybe he could at least point her in the right direction.

"I’m not lost," she said, steeling herself not to say anything too humiliating next.  "I’m looking for someone to… you know,  _take home_  for the night.  And I’m having some trouble finding what I’m looking for.

The man appeared thoughtful.

"I see.  And what kind of woman are you interested in?"

Jane flushed red.

"I’m looking for a man actually." This was harder than she’d thought it would be.  "Do you know where I can find one?"

"That depends," he said.  "What is your main criteria?"

"My main… I don’t know, I want him to smell good, I guess."

It was half a joke, but the man grinned and stepped a little closer to her car.  Though he had yet to give Jane a dangerous vibe, she glanced at the open glove compartment anyway, making sure her trusty mace and the Taser she borrowed from Darcy were within reach.

"Tell me," the man said.  "What do you smell?"

Despite the oddness of the question, there was a very noticeable scent in the air of cologne.  It was hard to place, but not altogether unpleasant.  She said as much, and the man nodded.

"Excellent.  I charge a rate of 350 dollars per hour for the first five hours.  Afterwards, it is 75 dollars for each additional hour.  If you would like me for the entire night, the price would be-"

"Woah, woah, woah, hang on," Jane all but wrapped her hands around the man’s neck to make him stop talking.  "Are you telling me that _you_  are a prostitute?”

"I prefer the term, ‘escort’, but yes, I am.  Why, what did you think I was?"

 _'Some kind of rich corporate bigwig?'_  Jane thought.  She had comparatively little to say, except that if she’d known the only decent pros-  _escort_  around would charge so much, she would’ve just invested in an HBO subscription.

"I only charge so much because I always make sure that my clients get their money’s worth."  He stepped off the curb and got into the car in the passenger seat, not bothering to ask permission first.  "You will see for yourself soon enough."

Jane could not recall for the life of her where in the conversation she had agreed to hiring him for the night or even alluded to wanting to.  Either this guy was the pushiest escort on the face of the earth or he was just that sure of himself and his bedroom prowess.  That alone made her willing to take him on.  Jane Foster was not a desperate woman, but she was one who loved a challenge.

"What if I’m into kinky stuff?" she asked him.  She really wasn’t, but he could find that out later.  Maybe.

"That would depend on how you define ‘kinky'," he answered, very much like someone on a job interview.  "It’s different for everyone, you see."

"What if I wanted you to tie me up and spank me?" There was about a negative twenty million percent chance of that ever happening, possibly more when he started to smile like that.

"I do have experience with that kind of play, yes."

Jane swallowed.

"Okay… what if I wanted to tie  _you_  up?”

"So long as you pay me and promise not to make any attempts on my life, my body is yours to do with as you please."

Something about how he said that went straight to Jane’s stomach and crept lower.

"Uh huh… what if I wanted to use whips and chains?"

"Once again, it is your money and your choice.  I have very little by way of limitations in the bedroom."

_'How can he be so freaking calm about this??'_

"Okay, what if… what if I don’t want sex at all?  What if all I want you to do is sit there and listen to me talk about my problems all night?"

He laughed, and not in a snide or a rude manner, but very much like he found her and everything she was saying truly adorable.  That would be even worse as far as Jane was concerned.  Nothing infuriated her more than being looked down on.

"My dear, if you think you would be the first person who needed a shoulder to cry on during the hardest of times, you would be sorely mistaken.  Almost half of my workload is that alone."

 ”You’re telling me you’ll charge women hundreds of dollars just to sit and talk to you?”

"They’re not all women, and I do give discounts."

Somewhere in the interim of their discussion, Jane had started the car again.  They had driven out of the red light district back into respectable society, where someone in a Toyota just about crashed into Jane’s car after running a red light.

"What if I changed my mind?  I don’t think I want to pay all that just to talk."

"Then we should do more than talk."  He wore a lecherous grin that Jane shot down with a glare.

"I could stop at any time and kick you out of this car."

"No doubt, but you should know, I charge an entry fee of fifty dollars."

Jane stared at him.  “An  _entry_  fee?”

"What I mean is that as soon as I get in your car, you owe me fifty dollars."

Jane’s car came close to slamming into a tow truck, but she hit the brakes in time and tried to shut out his uncaring chuckle at her slip-up, as if it had just been her life in danger and not his as well.  Never before had Jane met a more difficult man.  Was this how all male prostitutes acted?

"I’ll tell you what," the man said (Jane realized that she forgot to get his name).  "Since you’re a first time customer and clearly in a fragile state of being, I’ll give you a fifty percent discount.  Two hundred and fifty dollars, and you have me for the entire night, and I’ll even throw in the morning after for nothing, should you like a quick early morning romp."

Jane refused to delegate that with a response.  She’d just be feeding his ego.

"There are those who would pay out their ears for just an hour with me. You should consider yourself lucky I’m feeling generous tonight."

There was a police station up ahead.  Maybe she could pretend to be an undercover cop engaging in entrapment to pick up street walkers.

"You won’t get anywhere ignoring me."

"I’m just trying to figure out what divine entity up there hates me so much."

"I would think none since it’s me you picked up instead of one of my co-workers."

Jane growled, and came very close to ripping the steering wheel out and beating him with it until he got the hell out of her car.  She seemed to have reached some kind of breaking point.  The combination of Don getting married and trying to find a cheap, angry lay and picking up the world’s most pretentious manwhore had finally gotten to her.  She laughed like a madwoman.

"Okay, you know what?  Fine.  I will take you up on your offer.  I will pay you two hundred and fifty dollars out of my own pocket for the whole night.  I will pay cash or write you a check or give you my blood or whatever you want."

"Cash is preferable."

"And let me tell you something, if this doesn’t end up being the best night of my life, I’m not paying you a dime, and you can just go back to the mud hole from whence you came, get it?  This had better be worth it!"

**

It was.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part two!

It was a week and three days before Jane stopped dreaming of him.

The first night she woke up at seven to the sound of her alarm, and  _not_  at three or four in the morning, in a puddle of sweat with images of his dexterous fingers between her legs and his lips pressed to her throat clouding her mind, she thought it was a sign that she was finally moving past it.  She could get on with her life and get cracking on that spinsterhood.

Oh, if only it were so.

The day provided all new distractions and woes.  She could be anywhere- at work, out for a coffee run, reading at home, taking a shower- and right out of nowhere, she would conjure him up.  He’d be in that three piece suit of his, or he’d be naked from the waist up, or he’d just be plain naked.  No matter what, he would be smiling, or smirking, or grinning, ready to tear her apart from the inside out.  She’d feel the tingle of his mouth on hers or the burning heat of his hands on her stomach, trailing downwards.  She’d feel his kiss, his bite, his touch.  She’d hear his voice in her ears.

_'That's going to cost extra.'_

He’d said that at least three times that night.  What made it so sexy was beyond her.  

The only solution was to take long breaks in the bathroom, and wash her hands raw when she was done.  If only she could just wash off the shame.

A week and three days had come and gone.  After all this time, she should have just forgotten about him. That nameless man who might as well have been a  vivid fantasy she cooked up in a moment of loneliness.  She thought she might have caught the tail end of that Fifty Shades of Grey trailer on TV the other night.  Maybe it had burned into her subconscious and given her some kind of fever dream without the fever.

Of course, any time Jane tried to delude herself, she’d check her bank account and find it two hundred and fifty dollars lighter.  She’d remember waking the morning after, the very real experience of him spooning her, his torso pressed into her back like a piece of warm metal.  She’d remember disentangling herself from his grip in a haze, dressing fast, and leaving the apartment to get breakfast for three hours, praying he’d be gone before she got back.

He was.

She hadn’t seen him since.

If luck was on her side, she’d never see him again.

She certainly wasn’t going to look for him.

Libido be damned, she didn’t need some crazy expensive, possibly sociopathic, prostitute hanging around no matter how good at his job he was.

There was no way in the world Jane was ever going back to that side of town again.  In fact, first sign of a promotion in some other part of the country, she was taking it.  No need to stay where she could get tempted. 

To keep her mind busy and away from thoughts of carnal pleasure, Jane turned to her old standby: throwing herself into work.  Being an office worker was perhaps the most mundane job in the universe.  In a better world, Jane would be living on the road, traveling and stargazing in the desert somewhere, but if pushing pencils at Stark Industries was what paid the bills, she’d take what she could get.

She worked hard that day, filling her brain with words and numbers and account balances so that no room was left for her man of the night.  She printed reports, sent and received memos, refilled her coffee four times, and tried her best to keep to her time table.  At half past four, she went to her immediate superior’s desk to leave him a letter she’d been tasked with typing up.  It was a hair’s breath from the time he needed it by, and that was one of the many reasons Jane thanked her lucky stars that her boss was such a sweetheart.

She knocked on the side of the open door.

"Got the letter, Mr. Odinson."

Thor Odinson, a tall, burly man with bright blue eyes and a friendly smile, beckoned her inside.  He was just finishing a phone call when she arrived, and reset the phone on the receiver while Jane pulled up a chair.

"Jane, I’ve told you that you don’t have to call me that anymore," Thor said.  "We’ve worked together for three years now."

"Just going to take some getting used to calling you by your first name, sir."

She handed him the letter, which he barely inspected before leaving it on the pile to be mailed out.  After all this time, he trusted her enough not to make embarrassing typos.  It was a welcome change.  The last boss Jane had used to literally hold every paper she gave him up to the light, searching for the slightest hint of white-out.

"Well, I know you’re going to be a VP someday," Thor said, flashing his immaculate grin at her.  "You’re too good not to be.  Then we’ll be on equal ground and it will no longer matter."

"Oh, I don’t know about that," Jane said, giggling and looking down to hide her blush.

Thor Odinson was, in fact, a very attractive man, and exactly Jane’s usual type.  When they first met, his pleasant disposition and casual way of making her feel welcome made her go weak at the knee and forget her name for a few seconds.  Sometimes, Jane though there could have been something there, but after so many years and that one torpedoed relationship, that ship appeared to have sailed.  Thor was happily engaged to someone else, not to mention a dead ringer for good ol’ Don Blake.  That alone was enough for Jane to let it go.  It really wasn’t Thor’s fault, but these days, men who looked like Don made her chafe. 

 _'Tall, dark, and handsome is the thing for you,'_  said a nasty voice in her head.  Jane stomped it out right away before it could bring up his face or do any other sort of damage.

To make up for it, Jane allowed Thor to engage her in talk of the next company picnic at the start of the new year.  They talked about locations Thor had lined up, and Jane gave her opinions of them all.  Once that was decided upon, Jane had to find another conversation starter before the awkward silence set in.  Lucky for her, Thor had a busy workspace.  There were knick-knacks and pictures galore.  One showed him and a pretty dark haired woman she assumed to be the fiance, another had a smiling older couple, the male half missing his left eye for some reason.  A picture at the far end depicted a little blonde boy in a fisherman’s vest, holding a normal sized fish on a line in one hand, with the other thrown over the shoulder of a smaller, dark haired boy.  Something about him in particular caught her eye.

"So who is this?" Jane picked up the picture frame without permission.  "Your brothers?"

Thor chuckled.  ”Well, one of them is.  The other is me.  That’s me and my younger brother, Loki.  I was ten when this was taken.  He was nine.”

Jane handed him back the photo, which he looked at fondly, and a little sadly too.

"My father took us fishing out on the lake one summer.  I wasn’t very good at it.  This was the only one I caught.  You should have seen the beasts Loki reined in.  I don’t know how he did it so well.  He would never tell me."

"Sounds like you guy had some sibling rivalry going on," Jane said.

"A little," Thor said, his tone indicating that he didn’t want to get into it.  That was fine, Jane wouldn’t pry.

"So where is this brother of yours?" she asked instead.  That seemed a safe enough topic.  "Out running a fish market somewhere?"

The laugh that had been building died in her throat, the instant Thor’s face fell and she thought she saw wetness behind his eyes.  He was gripping the picture tightly, too tightly.  He’d break it if he didn’t let up.  

"I’m sorry," Jane said quickly.  "I didn’t know this was a sensitive matter-"

"It’s fine, Jane."  Thor put down the frame, which miraculously hadn’t been dented by those incredible bear hands of his.  "I’m just… it’s been some time since…"  He closed his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath.  "Loki died four years ago.  There was a fire at our old summer home and he was the only one inside.  He had wanted some time alone because of… well, let’s just say he was having some issues with our parents at the time.

Jane nodded.  She hoped it came off more understanding and less ‘go on, keep baring your soul to me.’

"The fire was so devastating that his body was unrecognizable.  They couldn’t even take DNA from it, but much as I would have liked to hope that meant it wasn’t him, no one else could have been in the house at the time."  A single tear found it’s way down Thor’s cheek.  "It was almost his birthday when it happened.  He was a brilliant man with such promise.  To lose him in such a way, to know all that was lost… I sometimes think that’s the worst of it."

**

The next day was Saturday.  Jane never worked on Saturday.  

She would’ve thanked Thor for arranging her schedule to give her a day off once a week, but she rather felt like small talk was beyond them now that she’d driven the poor guy to tears.

She just _had_  to ask about the fishing picture, hadn’t she?  She couldn’t have said something about that little hammer figurine next to the computer or the wrestling team championship photo on the wall, or literally anything else.

Well, now she owed Thor the story of her parent’s car accident, didn’t she?  He showed her his emotional trauma, now she’d have to show him hers.  Wasn’t that how it worked?

If anything good could have come from her faux pas, it was that she was back in the red light district looking for her mystery escort.  

Oh yes, this was a good thing.

It was good because hearing Thor’s story reminded her a lot of herself, and how little time she really had on this earth to live her life to the fullest.  Cliche it may have been, one really only did live once, and maybe she shouldn’t be resigning herself to being single forever just because the first and only guy she ever thought herself in love with hadn’t loved her back.  Maybe there really were other fish in the sea and all that jazz.  Darcy had been telling her that enough ever since the break-up.  How would she react when she found out that it took a male prostitute and her boss’s dead brother to convince Jane that she was right?

Before Jane commenced with any soul-searching or getting back into the dating pool, she was going to have to find that guy again.  Things had not ended well last time ( _'There was nothing to end, you idiot.  You_ hired _the guy!’_ ) and if she was going to get anywhere, she needed some closure.  She needed to find him, apologize for walking out and not thanking him properly for his services, maybe even pay him for an hour to vent her frustrations.  He didn’t seem like the listening type- more like the ‘kill you with sarcasm’ type really- but she could use the release. The  _emotional_  release that is.  

She slowed in front of the corner by the lamp post, the one that glowed brighter than the others and flickered every couple of seconds.  There had been a shadow on the wall that made her heart speed up, but coming closer, it was nothing but a tower of trash bags.  The curb was otherwise deserted.  A few women in gaudy makeup, crop tops, and fishnets were sitting on the steps of a dilapidated apartment building.  The notion of driving up and asking if they’d seen a tall guy in a suit who oozed sex appeal and had hands like a god was thrown out faster than it came.  On the list of bad ideas, engaging anyone other than him in conversation was pretty high up there. 

In fact, the only bad idea worse than that one was engaging _him_  in conversation at all.  

Why the hell was she out here again?

_'To tell him thanks for the amazing night.  Here's fifty bucks.  Have a nice day.'_

Jane stopped the car.  She was in the middle of the street, but no one else was stupid enough to come down here, so what was she worried about?

She dropped her head onto the steering wheel and let out the biggest sigh of her life.  This was by far the stupidest thing she had ever done.  She would happily dare anyone who knew her well to think of one thing she had ever done that was worse than this.

"Well, you pulled your car over in the middle of the street where anyone could come careening around the corner and mow you down."

Jane hadn’t known she was speaking out loud, anymore than she noticed the figure of a man leaning in through the passenger seat window, the one that had been jammed for months.  

He was no different than he was a week and four days ago.  His suit was newly cleaned and he was missing the green and gold scarf, but otherwise he was the very picture of refinement on a backdrop of urban decay that Jane remembered.  And the way he smirked made her want to slap him and kiss him senseless in equal measure.

"I- I was looking for you."  There were times when Jane had a rather unfortunate blabbermouth problem.  

"I can tell," he answered.  

Without missing a beat, he reached inside to unlock the passenger seat door and let himself into the car.  Much as she saw that one coming, Jane didn’t start the engine this time.

"That’s another fifty bucks for you," she muttered.

"I’m thinking I might waive the entry fee since it’s you."

"What makes me so special?"

"I like you."

Jane rolled her eyes.  How very dark and mysterious of him.  

Whether he was honest, at least now she had what she wanted.

"I was going to give you some money anyway," she said. "This time, I only want an hour, and I just want to talk."

He smiled at her, as if she’d just suggested something sinful and risque.

"And we’re going to do it in public."

His smile widened.

"Stop looking at me like that.  I really just want to talk."

"Return customers of mine rarely just want to talk."

"Well, I guess I’m different, aren’t I?"

She drove down the street, picking up speed when they crossed the border between decay and normal society.  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  He was still smiling, goddamn him.

"Yes, you most certainly are."

She stopped at a red light, and used the opportunity to unleash that death glare that had been building inside of her forever.  Boy had he had this one coming. He might as well burst into flames from the heat of her gaze.

Flames…

Jane blinked her eyes a few times.  He turned his head slightly to the side, and from this angle there was something… new to his appearance.  It was odd to say that he looked familiar, because she surely knew exactly who he was, minus a few key details.

"You’ve never told me your name, you know."  

His smile faded.  Finally.  If she’d known that was all it took, she would’ve quizzed him on his personal information ages ago.

"My name…" he looked off into space , like he’d forgotten for a moment that he was not alone.  "That is unimportant.  I’ve used many in the past."

"So give me one of them," Jane said, exasperated.  "Or I’ll have to just give you one myself, and it won’t be a good one.  It’ll be something boring like… I don’t know, Tom."

"Luke, then," he said, swallowing something in the back of his throat.  "You can call me Luke."

He gave her a meaningful look, the meaning to which she couldn’t hope to decipher.  She nodded her head and went back to the road.  The light turned green several seconds ago, and the little old lady in the Pinto behind her was honking her horn.  

"Well, Luke, it’s nice to meet you," she said, holding out her free hand.  "I’m Jane Foster."

He shook it one time and let go.  For once, he seemed less eager to rip the clothes from her body and more to close himself into a box and never come out.  What a strange man he was.

"It’s one hundred and fifty an hour for idle conversation."

Yeah, should have seen that one coming.

"I don’t get another discount?"

"That is a discount."

Should have seen that coming too.

"Okay, fine.  There’s a corner pub up here on fifth street that serves the best hot chocolate in the world," Jane made the appropriate turn so that the pub was just in sight.  "I hope I’m not expected to pay for your drinks."

"Only if I’m expected to go home with you."

Jane snorted.  ”Well, that’s one thing that’s for sure not gonna happen.”

**

It did.


	3. Chapter Three

Speed dating.

Jane Foster was about to go  _speed dating_.

She was going to kill that girl in accounting who gave her the information and advised her to give it a try.  First, Jane had to find out what her name was.  She had been tall and plump with curly red hair and a lazy eye.  Someone was bound to know her.

Not that Jane could place all the blame on her co-worker.  It was still partly her fault that she was in this mess.  For all of Jane’s posturing and declarations of finding new romance, she didn’t know jack shit about dating and she never had.  She only met Donald because of a stupid twist of fate that not even a romantic comedy would use.  She had missed the train to work one day, and then she tripped and fell on her way to the subway, only to be caught in the arms of a handsome man who also missed the train.  They wound up stranded for two hours in the tunnel, talking science and medicine until the sun went down.  By rom com logic, this should have meant they were soulmates.  In reality, it meant that her and Don sucked at keeping time.

After that, taking advice from a complete stranger looked paltry, until she got to the restaurant and realized what the hell she was doing. 

There wasn’t anything objectively wrong with the men in attendance. There were ten in total, standing in a line at the opposite end of the bar.  One of them was blowing his nose for about the fifth time and another wore what had to be the ugliest tie Jane had ever seen in her life, but they were otherwise decent to look upon.  If Jane was being honest with herself (and of course she wasn’t), she couldn’t help comparing them to a standard most men dare not hope to reach.

That one on the far right wasn’t tall enough.

The one next to him had dark hair that was too short.

The third guy could not make that suit work at all.

Whenever one of these meaningless flaws stuck out to Jane, she could’ve sworn she heard this deep, hissing laughter in her ears, and she regretted having come a little bit more.

All too soon, it was time to start.  The woman running the show asked that the women choose a table, and the men would rotate between them.  Jane took the one to the far left in the corner.  It was tucked away from the rest, enough for her to hide and hopefully be forgotten in the shuffle.  

Her wishful thinking was quick to shatter, as the host rang the bell and the first man came to sit down.  It was that guy with the hideous tie.

"Hi there, I’m Frank," he said smiling.  He had a pretty nice smile.  "Nice to meet you."

"You too," said Jane.  She introduced herself in turn and the next five of their seven minutes together was dedicated mostly to careers. 

"I’ve been writing for the Post for about five years now," Frank said, "but I’ve always wanted to do freelance work so I can travel."

"Sounds like fun," Jane said.  "I’ve always wanted to maybe go out west away from the city.  Not like California or anything, but-"

The bell rang and it was time to move.  Jane and Frank exchanged numbers as Frank stood to leave.

"By the way," he said before moving on, "thanks for not mentioning my tie."

Caught off guard, Jane was now very much staring at his tie, and by God, it was even uglier up close.

Sensing her confusion, Frank went on.  ”I’m only wearing this because a friend made a bet with me.  I have to get three girls in a row to like me enough that they don’t notice it.”

"Oh, I see," Jane said with a nod, followed by a thumbs up.  "Well, good luck to you."

Frank gave her a tiny salute and moved on to a voluptuous blonde in a cocktail dress.  She took one look at him and fell out of her chair laughing.  Looks like Frank wasn’t going to win that bet.

The second guy was unmemorable, as was the third.  The fifth was that ‘not tall enough’ guy, and he was actually really nice and funny.  Neither of them felt a connection, though.

The guy after him was by far the most physically attractive.  He was well-built and had a boyishly handsome face made better by some striking blue eyes that seemed to dance in the light.  Best of all, he didn’t look a thing like Don.  Maybe Jane had just found the one.

"Hi, I’m Jane Foster," she said.

"I’m Leon," said the man.  "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

And Jane had to back up almost immediately to get away.  She hid her retching behind a phony coughing fit.  As that was only making Leon grow concerned and attempt to reach over and ask if she was okay, Jane had to stop.  No way could she take another whiff of that noxious gas coming out of his mouth.  Hadn’t this guy ever heard of a breath mint?

"I’m fine, it’s just allergies," she said, thinking fast.  Alarms rang in her head as Leon opened his mouth.  "But you know, funny story about my allergies, there was this time when I was seven and I was playing stick ball with the neighbor kids-"

Jane proceeded to tell the story of her allergy ridden cousin’s first ever asthma attack in as much excruciating detail as she could, never stopping to let Leon get a word in.  After being quite literally saved by the bell, Jane slumped over, ready to go back home and sleep forever and lamenting she still had at least four guys to go.

While the changeover took place, her eyes wandered to the foreground of the restaurant, a room packed with diners from all walks of life.   There was a family of five enjoying chicken strips and pasta.  A small girl stole a strip from her  brother and got scolded by her father.  Next to them was a pair of old ladies comparing wallet photos of their grandchildren, and next to them was a young, attractive couple caught in intimate conversation.  No doubt it was going to lead to something a little more physical later in the night.  Weren’t they lucky?

At the center was a table that was bigger than the rest, though just two people occupied it.  Just another way for rich people to flash their money around, of course.  They didn’t hold Jane’s attention, until the curvy waitress with the large derriere moved to the side, and she caught a glimpse of the man sitting with the elderly gentleman and sharing a toast with him.

Somebody up there hated her.  She didn’t care what anyone said.

Luke had a new suit today, but it looked so much like the old one that Jane could only tell because he no longer had the scarf, just a plain black tie and a white shirt underneath.  Knowing all too well what he looked like without his clothes, Jane thought it might be best for her to cut this whole thing short and go home.  Claim she had a stomachache or something.

Her body was numb and even her mind was malfunctioning, giving her nothing helpful as Luke laughed at something his friend (his client?) had said and wore a little smirk that brought Jane back their first night together.  To her foolish assertion that there was no way he could still have any stamina after two rounds.  That smirk had been his response, and all Jane would get out of him before he got to work proving her wrong (and that he was most likely an alien of some kind).

Luke and the man talked for ages, and Jane was so absorbed that she didn’t see the man who had come to her table until he leaned over and snapped his fingers in her face.

"Hey!  Are you in there at all?"

Jane jumped and twisted herself around.  The irate man before her appeared to be that guy who’d been blowing his nose.  It was bright red and bulbous, a poor match for the rest of his face, which would have been pleasant were it not for that nose.  

"Oh… I’m sorry," Jane said, resisting the urge to glance again at Luke’s table.  "I was just spacing out."

"What a shocker," the man muttered.  Jane chose to ignore that. 

"I’m Jane," she said, hand outstretched.  He didn’t take it.

"Nice to meet you, Jane."

The bell rang.

"And goodbye, Jane."

The man stood up, muttering ‘weirdo’ under his breath and leaving Jane to roll her shoulders and relieve the tension.  She allowed herself one final look at Luke’s table- the men were preparing to leave- and then dove into one more unmemorable chat with an unmemorable guy who seemed exactly as interested in her as she was in him.  At least they were on the same page.

The second to last guy was the man with the too short hair.  He sank into the chair, one arm dangling over the back, as he put on an easy smile and flipped non-existent hair out of his face.

"Hey, babe.  Name’s Hal.  I’ve been waiting to get to you."

He was already so appealing.  

"Nice to meet you," Jane said.  She kept her hand firmly to her side this time.  "My name is Jane."

"Nice name," he said like that was some great compliment she should be swooning over.  "Suits the best looking girl in this whole place."

"Oh, you don’t mean that."  That busty blonde was in full view, sitting with that ‘not tall enough’ guy, who was stammering and sweating like a kid in Junior high.

"Course I do.  The rest of these chicks are a dime a dozen.  You’re the only one who looks like she has any personality.  So, how about your number?"

Somehow, Jane wasn’t terribly flattered by his sweet talk, but then, she’d never cared for those who put one person down to make another look good.

"I actually don’t have a working phone right now except my work line."

"So give me that," said Hal.

"I can’t.  It’s against company regulation."

"I saw you give your number to some other guy."

Thankfully, the bell rang and saved Jane from having to answer that.  She put on a smile and thanked Hal for his time (‘So sorry we won’t be seeing each other again’).  He looked ready to protest, except the final guy in line was not very patient, and he all but shoved Hal out of the way so he could take his seat.  From behind, he looked like that ‘bad suit’ guy.  He was the last one, and so she braced herself for another seven wasted minutes with another guy she’d have nothing in common with.

Then he sat down.

"My, what an unsavory fellow.  I don’t think I could  have stomached him for as long as you did.  For that, Jane Foster, I commend you," and then he smirked.  And Jane hated him so much.

_"What the hell are you doing here?"_

Jane looked around.  If she signaled for help, maybe the hostess would come over to remove the intruder and find the real guy, but all she saw was said real guy leaving the restaurant in a hurry, shoving a thick, green wad into his pocket.

"I decided I wanted to try this speed-dating thing," said Luke.  He looked far too relaxed for his own good and now that he was close enough, that shirt of his was one step away from translucent. 

What the hell was he trying to prove?

That he was irresistible?

Jane was only here in the first place because she was trying to forget about that.

"I’m not reimbursing you," she said.

"I don’t need it."

"I’m not paying you for anything either."

"You don’t have to.  This is my day off."

"Since when do escorts get days off?"

"They don’t, unless they’re me."

From there, Jane had no desire to engage him in further conversation, but she had one more question that, against her better judgement, she was dying to ask.

"If today is your day off, who was that man you were with?"

She was suddenly reminded of the time she asked for his name.  His face fell into a blank stare and he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning away from her.

"That was… a business associate."

She raised an eyebrow.

"A business associate?"

“ _Yes_ ,” he said. “I do involve myself in other ventures besides selling myself on a dirty street corner.”

"Oh yeah? Do tell."

He wouldn’t.  The bell rang once more and the hostess thanked everyone for coming.  As everyone grabbed their coats and purses, Jane thought she saw the busty blonde and the not so tall guy leave hand in hand.  If so, she wished them the very best.

Of course, Luke followed her out, claiming that his car was in the same direction.  Jane doubted he even had a car, but her attention was diverted before she could say anything.  That one guy, Hal, was talking to Frank, the man she’d given a number to, gesturing at the slip of paper in Frank’s hand that looked very much like it came from Jane’s notepad.

Luke tsked.

"Some people really can’t take no for an answer."  He shook his head.  "Are you not bothered?"

"Don’t worry about it," said Jane.  "I was never going to see any of these guys again.  This whole thing was just practice to see if I could get back into the dating game.  That number is from my first ever cell phone from six years ago.  It’s been deactivated forever."

Luke grinned and took her hand, helping her down a high step.

"My clever girl," he said.

"I try," Jane said, distracted by her search for her beat up blue mazda, which had gotten lost in a sea of cars coated in darkness.

She was back at home (alone), making herself a late night snack and catching an action movie marathon, when it hit her that he had called her  _his._


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the pre-written chapters, so it might be a while before the next one comes out. Sorry about that. I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year and a bunch of other stuff, so you know how it goes.

It had to be the most cliche thing in the world to say that Thor’s engagement party was like something out of a fairy tale, but as Jane walked through an archway weaved out of twigs and flowers, stepping on loose petals that cascaded down, it really was the only comparison she could make.  Call her uncreative.

It was harder to miss once Jane met the lucky bride to be.  She wore muddy blue jeans and an oversized football jersey, and she dominated the field in a game of touch football.  Jane knew she was Thor’s fiance right away, not because she resembled her clean cut image in that picture on Thor’s desk, but because the way Thor beamed whenever she made a touchdown or outran the rest was unmistakable.

Don used to look at her like that.

To avoid her mind delving into the point of no return, Jane listened in on the three middle aged woman at the table next to hers.  They were watching the game, two of them with disapproving glares.

"I don’t know why you condone this, Frigga," said the one on the left.

She was addressing the woman in the middle, the only one not to stick up her nose at the bride’s dirty face and hands as she rolled through a puddle to catch a low pass.  

"I agree," said the woman on the right, who had this upper class haughty noblewoman look that the others lacked.  "If that were  _my_  future daughter-in-law, I would never allow it.”

"Then you’ve clearly never met a woman like Sif," said the one in the middle, and now that Jane knew this was probably Thor’s mother, she could definitely see where his temperament from.  "I have known her since she was a girl, and you could not find a better match for my son.  Be assured of that, ladies."

Translation: lay off my family or this stirring spoon is going from my tea to your eye.

At least, that was how Jane chose to interpret the little smile Thor’s mom wore that was anything but happy.  She excused herself shortly thereafter to ‘bring back more of those delicious scones from the refreshment table.’  Twenty minutes later, she hadn’t returned.  Jane decided that she liked Thor’s family.  They didn’t take any shit.

For the nex hour, she enjoyed hot hors d’oeuvres and sparkling champagne that a man in a pressed suit and tie brought to her on a tray.  If this was how rich people lived- getting the biggest table at restaurants and having people serve you things on literal silver platters- Jane could get used to it.

The game of football came to an end, and the bride was escorted into the house to get cleaned up.  In the interim, Jane learned from the idle gossip of the other guests that her name was Sif, that she and Thor had been childhood friends, and that she was an accomplished martial artist who routinely won competitions and could snap your neck with a flick of her wrist.  Jane knew for a fact that Thor had been a wrestler in his college days (he could have gone to the Olympics if he wanted to) and having once caught him changing shirts in his office (purely by accident of course), Jane was pretty sure Thor could also snap a person’s neck with ease.  These two were meant to be.

Sif was back in time for dinner, sans the rough and tumble wild woman look.  Now she was clean, coiffed, and a perfect fit for that fairy tale motif in her deep red gown and twice braided hair.  She still fist bumped a handsome blond guy on her way to Thor’s side.

"Everyone, thank you for coming tonight!" Thor said, projecting well over the general noise of conversation and clinking silverware.  "My fiance and I are thrilled to have you.  I hope you all enjoy your dinner-"

"We’d enjoy it more if you’d quiet down and let us eat!" 

The speaker was a large and round red headed man Jane recalled having been part of the football game, teaming up with the blond guy against Sif and an Asian man.  Instead of glaring at him or telling him to quiet down or any other negative reaction Jane might have expected, Thor laughed and clapped the man on the shoulder.

"Volstagg is correct!" he said.  "I know none of you want to listen to me blather on when there is a meal to be had, so let’s not waste time.  Tuck in!"

Jane bit into her salad.  No point in doing any different when everyone else was either cheering or stuffing their faces.  The one called Volstagg- if Jane had heard correctly- had gotten really into a leg of lamb and seemed to have forgotten anything else existed.  Jane was only into her salad, and she could not blame him in the slightest.

In fact, dinnertime ended much too soon for her liking, and mid meal drinks were served while the wait staff set up for dessert.  After a dinner like that, anything less than a seven layer cake imported from some European country would fall below her expectations.  This rich people stuff was a bad influence on her.  She was never so high maintenance before.

She walked a few times around the party, drink in hand, stretching stiff legs that had been in one position for far too long (you’d think an office drone would be used to this).  It was good to walk off a heavy meal and get a break from that husband and wife she’d had the ‘pleasure’ of sitting beside.  Not that she was so jaded that the mere sight of a happy couple made her gag, but there was only so much feeding each other apple slices and ‘lovey honeybuns’ and ‘babykins’ that one person could take before they lost their lunch.

This was why she shouldn’t have come alone.  

Actually, she probably shouldn’t have come at all.  The only person in the world she could have thought to bring was an egomaniacal prostitute of all things.  That was unacceptable for more than one reason.  She had gone a full twenty six days without looking for him or seeing him anywhere at all since the speed dating thing.  If she could make it a full thirty, maybe that would be enough to wean herself off of him, and if not, more drastic measures would have to be taken.

After their last encounter, she’d had four more dreams about him.  The madness had to stop.

She paused in front of that flowery archway.  Most of the loose petals had already fallen, but one would land in her hair or her empty tumbler every now and then.  The scent was refreshing, if overwhelming.  

"Jane!"

Thor and Sif were coming over.  They were attached at the hip, Thor’s arm around Sif’s slim waist as hers crawled up his back, her fingers barely visible on the other side.  

"Hey, Thor," Jane said.  She nearly held out the hand her glass was clutched in, but at the last second caught herself.  "Thanks for inviting me."

"Thank you for attending," said Thor, charming as ever.  "I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself."

"Well, I can say that I’ve never had a halibut dinner that tasted so good," she said.  _’Or a halibut dinner at all.’_

"If you think that’s good, wait until you have a slice of our chef’s red velvet cake."  Instead of specifying just what was so good about the red velvet cake, Thor nodded to his fiancee.  "Jane, I’d like you to meet Sif.  Sif, this is my work associate, Jane Foster."

He removed his arm, not before giving her a quick squeeze and a smile.  To this, Jane had to reiterate: they were perfect together.  (Hopefully, they didn’t feed each other anything in public.)

"It’s nice to meet you," said Sif.  She shook Jane’s hand and put no more force into it than necessary.  Nothing about her stance indicated caution, not that Jane ever thought she could compare to a woman like this.  Even being a straight woman, she could admit that Sif was beautiful, covered in grime or otherwise.  "Thor tells me you’re going to be a VP someday."

Thor’s grin did not change when Jane sent a withering look his way.  If anything, it got wider.  

"Well, I believe in you," he said, so very genuine in his encouragement that Jane could almost wish he  _was_  single, and that the poison that was Donald Blake had never happened.

That other blonde man had gotten hold of the ball again.  He ran by with it over his head, the man called Volstagg lumbering after him in hot pursuit (he was quite agile for being so big).

"Hey, enough talking over there, Odinson!" the blonde man shouted.  "Let’s play a round."

"We’re having a conversation with someone!" Sif answered, rolling her eyes and muttering to herself about how rude some people could be.  "Jane, I don’t know if you’ve met Thor’s best man yet?"

"No, I don’t think so."

"You mustn’t look down on Fandral, dearest," said Thor.  "You know how excited he gets during times of celebration."

"I think it’s from all the alcohol he drinks," said Sif.

Thor shook his head and pulled her into a one armed hug.  She did not object.

"You know, Jane," he said.  "Fandral is currently single, and I have it on good authority that he is a perfect gentlemen to his lady friends."

Just how many lady friends this Fandral had was not mentioned, but given the number of women eyeing him as he ran about in a fitted tuxedo shirt, and the way he eyed them right back, Jane would wager that there was something of a list.

"Thanks.  I’ll keep that in mind."

Small talk turned to topics like work and Sif’s new job as a martial arts instructor, but before they could go as low as the weather, Thor was called away by a member of the wait staff.  He left Sif to finish telling Jane all about her new students, though that petered out once Sif finished the story about her favorite student’s rising to the purple belt.  Awkward silence reigned over them by the time Thor was out of sight.

"By the way, I’m really sorry about that," Sif said.

Jane furrowed her brow.  ”What?”

If her confusion reached Sif, the other woman made no show of it.

"Thor is a romantic at heart," Sif said.  "He may not seem like it at first, but he is.  He likes to see everyone as happy as we are.  Personally, I don’t think you and Fandral would be good match.  No offense."

"None taken," Jane said.  Out the corner of her eye, Fandral and one of his admirers had taken to making out against a tree, in the direct line of sight of all the party guests.

"It is a bit funny, though," Sif went on.  "He mentioned you the other day.  He thinks you would have been good for his brother."

Now there was something that piqued Jane’s interest: that mysterious late brother of Thor’s who had helped inspire her to get back in the game.  Someday, she’d have to ask for a more recent picture of him than the one in Thor’s office.  Going off the one of his child self, he had probably grown up to be just as sweet and loveable as Thor was.  

"You’re talking about Loki, right?

Sif’s eyes widened.  ”You know about him?”

"Thor told me," Jane said, though Sif’s questioning gaze remained.  "I saw a picture of him in Thor’s office while I was delivering some papers, and we got to talking.  He told be all about the fire too.  I’m really sorry that you lost him like that."

"Don’t be.  I was never very close to Loki."  

"Oh no?" Jane asked.  "I thought you guys were all friends since childhood."

"With  _Thor_ , I was,” Sif said.  ”Loki was very withdrawn as a child.  I don’t think there was anyone he was truly close to other than Thor and his mother.”

"What about his father?" 

Sif grimaced.  ”There were problems.  I don’t know what they were, but I think that at the end,Loki more or less hated his father.  Probably why he chose Odin’s favorite summer home to burn down instead of-“

"Wait, what was that?" Jane never liked interrupting people, but this one time, it seemed necessary.  "You’re saying the fire Thor’s brother died in… _he set it himself_?”

Jane could only imagine how she looked to Sif, all bug eyed and choked for words, but she couldn’t possibly have held a candle to what was written all over Sif’s face.

"Thor didn’t tell you that part," Sif breathed, shaking her head.  "Then I shouldn’t say anymore.  I’m so sorry.  When you said he told you everything, I just assumed.."

A change came over Sif that was as sudden as it was extreme.  Where she had been bashful just a moment ago, now she had darkened to a kind of steely rage that made Jane wonder if she’d done something wrong or offensive.  The thought of angering someone who probably knew about thirty different ways to kill her had little time to set in before Sif stood up and looked ready to pounce on something or someone  _behind_  Jane.

"What is it?"

Sif balled her fists, her face twisting into a animal-like snarl, and Jane got the sense that her new friend had shut out the world around her. 

"What is he doing here?" she hissed.

Jane turned to look.  At first, all she saw was that sickeningly sweet couple from before walking under the flower arch.  They moved out of sight, and then Thor was there.  With him was a man a head shorter, who none the less would’ve towered over Jane if he was as close to her as he was to Thor.  His platinum blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a very punkish look that clashed badly with the age lines on his face.  Though Jane could only see him from the side, she pegged him for no younger than fifty.  He had bloodshot eyes, a large nose, and large ears that were pointed at the top.  His grey suit was clean and well-tailored, yet it seemed to suit him ill.  He smiled as he shook Thor’s hand, and the phoniness of it was obvious even from so far away.  Thor could certainly see it.  As angry as Sif was to see this guy, whoever he was, Thor was one step away from wringing his neck.

"Who is that?" Jane asked, not so much speaking to Sif anymore as voicing a thought.

"His name is Malekith," said Sif.  She took a step forward, ready at a moment’s notice to jump into a battle with her fiance.  "He was a business partner of Odin’s before they had a falling out years ago.  He’s been coming around a lot in the last few years, always unannounced and unwelcome.  The bastard even interrupted Loki’s funeral."

Thor finished speaking with the man named Malekith.  He did say goodbye, instead he turned on a heel and left him in the cold.  Malektih didn’t seem too bothered.  At least not enough to leave a place where he was not wanted.  He walked in Sif and Jane’s direction, his gaze straight ahead and so piercing that he might as well have run Jane through with a sword.  She had a feeling Sif would be doing that to him had she a weapon in hand.

"Mrs. Odinson to be," Malekith said, his clipped accent suggesting that English was neither his mother tongue nor a language he was particularly fluent in.  "And Ms. Foster.  What a pleasure to meet you."

Jane jumped, then glanced around stupidly to see if there was any other woman in the near vicinity who could, by sheer coincidence, bear her last name.  

"Huh?  Have we met?"  

Sif hovered over her like some kind of guard dog.  If Malekith made one wrong move, she would bite.  

"We have not.  I make a point of knowing all those who associate with the son of my former business partner," said Malekith.  "And he happens to like you very much, my dear."

 _'Thor likes me?'_  Jane was torn between contemplating the oddness of that statement and wondering if Malekith had a death wish to say something like that with Sif around.

It was likely not the latter, as Malekith bade them farewell and promised Sif that his wedding gift would arrive in just another month.  Jane kept a hand on Sif as he approached a waiting limousine with a spring in his step, not that she’d ever be strong enough to restrain her.

A man in a footman’s uniform awaited Malekith and opened the door for him.  He was not the driver, as Jane expected.  That man sat in the only untinted window and stared straight ahead with eyes covered by shades.  His dark hair was tied back and his fingers dug into the steering wheel.  For all that Malekith was eager to stay and crash the party, that driver looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and the only reason Jane’s eyes and thoughts lingered on him for so long, when he should logically be a mere footnote in the grand scheme of things, was that there was something so familiar about him that she couldn’t place.


	5. Chapter Five

_'Well, that was a disaster and a half.'_

Jane could think of no better way to describe the last few hours as she walked the cold Manhattan streets against the setting sun.  She passed cars honking their horns at the person in front of them and business people shouting into their blackberries, oblivious to the world around them. As such, Jane had to watch that nobody bumped into her in their haste, lest she get knocked into the gutter and have to go home cold, angry, and wet, instead of just cold and angry.

This was the last time she ever let one of her friends set her up on a date. Not that she blamed Betty Ross-Banner for how badly this night had turned out- she couldn’t have known her colleague was a jerk to the waiter if he took two minutes too long to get his drink, and could only have a meaningful conversation about his many achievements in the field of genetics. She’d be checking those ‘achievements’ of his on Google the second she got home, because he had really been the one behind the cloning of Dolly the Sheep, shouldn’t she have heard of him before?  

First, she had to find her street.  

Or any street at all that looked familiar.

That was the problem with letting your blind date pick the restaurant. If you had to, at any point at all, make up a story about your poor sick grandmother in that hospital up the road so that you could end the date early and not have to be in the car with him again- listening to him complain loudly about anyone driving less than thirty miles an hour- always make sure you are in a place familiar to you. One that is, at most, two blocks away from your apartment so you can walk home without problems.

Jane would have to keep that in mind for next time. Darcy was already talking about setting her up with the guy who worked at the Arby’s on 9th Street. Apparently, he had a great ass. Jane couldn’t wait.

She walked past a chic boutique manned by a pair of heavily made up women in stylish clothes, who looked out at her and anyone else walking by with haughty gazes. Jane would have paid them no mind, except she was pretty sure she’d passed them twice now. She checked her cell phone. She was in a good reception area, but her phone was on it’s last breath. Always charge your phone before you leave the house was the second rule Jane was going to write in her comprehensive book of dating tips.

She walked all the way to the Cold Stone on the curb (at least that was something she hadn’t seen before). She stood away from the crowd waiting to cross and dialed Darcy’s number. The sign above her read 31st street. Darcy lived on 34th. Jane just hoped this was the right 31st and waited two rings for Darcy to answer.

"You’ve reached the Lewis-Boothby residence. This is Darcy speaking. How may I help you?"

"Darcy? It’s me!" Jane shouted into the phone. She would have spoken softer, but with all the car horns and talking billboards in the background, she couldn’t be sure Darcy would hear (this was one of those times Jane hated living in New York).

"Jane! Hey babe, how are you doing? Your date go well?"

Jane suppressed a shudder. She could still see the crumbs running down his face as he yelled at the waiter for bringing him a slightly undercooked steak.

"That’s not important right now. Listen, I’m at the corner of 31st and Main in front of a Cold Stone, and it is  _freezing_  out here. Do you think you could come and get me, or just give me directions to your place so I can walk it? Darcy?  _Hello_?”

Jane pulled the phone from her ear, and the screen was dark. Dead.

"Dammit!"

Jane snapped the useless phone shut and stuffed it back into her pocket. She shoved her hands in after it, having zippered her winter coat up as far as it would go. She looked like a giant marshmallow person in a pair of light dress pants that she should’ve known better than to wear tonight. She charged across the street, looking for anything that struck her as familiar. She took a cab to work everyday, going five whole blocks between her building and Stark Industries’ Manhattan branch. Surely she would cross into a street she knew if she just kept walking and stayed away from deserted places.

Minutes snailed by, at least in Jane’s perception. Inside the Cold Stone she spotted a clock that read twenty after seven before she walked away from it. Three blocks and what felt like hours later, Jane came upon a bank with a clock reading seven forty five. Her fervor from twenty five minutes ago was dying away with the decreasing temperature. Even the apathetic New York population was leaving their personal bubbles to acknowledge the cold, drawing up coats and hailing cabs that would hopefully have a little heat to them. Jane would’ve done the same a long time ago, had she not stupidly left her wallet and all but five dollars cash back at her apartment while rushing to get ready.

Rule number three.

So here she was, braving the elements, probably getting further and further from her nice, warm, comfortable apartment, and one step away from becoming a Jane-sicle. There was a little homeless man asleep next to an adult bookstore whom she was convinced had frozen solid.

After another two blocks of walking, Jane looked around at her surroundings. This part of town was not as densely populated as the rest, but there were still a good number of people going this way and that, and the street saw cars driving up and down at least twenty times per minute. For now, she would not panic. The buildings were slowly becoming dirtier and more dilapidated, and she had a sinking suspicion that one wrong turn would lead her into No Man’s Land, but she would not lose hope.

 _'Maybe my Guardian Angel will come down and show me the way home,'_  Jane thought with a snort.  _’They’ll just come calling my name-‘_

"Jane?"

_'Yeah, like that. Wait-'_

"Jane. Is that you?"

Green eyes flashed through Jane’s mind, an annoying habit she had yet to drop even after a month and a half (at least there’d been no more dreams). The voice was nothing like Luke’s anyway. Much too nasal, and it lacked that little growl under his words that made everything he said sound like the dirtiest thing in the world.

"Jane, hey!"

The man running towards her was shrouded in shadow, the flickering streetlights overhead were of no help to her. When he was close enough to be seen, Jane still could not understand why this man was addressing her, or how he knew her name in the first place. She was pretty sure they’d never met before.

"Hey," he said between gulps of air. He wasn’t much of a runner. "Wow, I didn’t I’d be seeing you around here. Is this a coincidence or what?"

"It’s pretty weird alright," Jane said, and now seemed like as good a time as any to get back to that wandering aimlessly around a big city searching for home. Mr. Weirdo here would just have to wait for another time.

"Oh, come on now, don’t tell me you don’t recognize me," the man said with a grin that probably would’ve made a different man look approachable and sweet. "I tried to call you after the speed dating thing, but I just kept getting this message that the number was no longer in service. Pretty crazy, right?"

Oh.

Now she remembered.

It was amazing that she could’ve forgotten him, what with that obvious smarmy attitude and hair that was still too short and too dark.

"Hal," Jane said.

"Bingo!" he laughed and made to throw an arm around Jane’s shoulder, but she side-stepped him at the last minute.

She started walking, not having a direction in mind and not believing for a second that he wouldn’t follow (she could hope, though).

”So, what brings you out here so late at night?” He’d had to run to catch up to her, and as slow as he was, Jane had the most annoyingly short legs.

"Poor life choices," she answered.

He laughed, and to be honest, Jane couldn’t blame him. Most people probably would think she was joking.  They should all try dating people who attempt to get taxi drivers fired for not parking directly in front of the restaurant (even if there were cars already parked in front of it) and get back to her.

"Well, I’m glad I caught you. I was afraid I’d never see you again what with that phone number not working and all. I’m thinking I might not have copied it down right-"

"You know, I’m stretching my brain right now, and I just can’t seem to recall ever giving you my number.”

Hal’s face fell for a moment, as if he was just realizing that himself. With a mental eye roll, Jane moved on, hoping to catch him off guard in his state of confusion and make a clean getaway.  She never should’ve given that number to anyone.

"Hey! Wait!" he was right behind her in seconds. Luck wasn’t on her side tonight at all. "How abut we exchange emails instead? Mine is-"

"I have a better idea," Jane said with an open glare.  There were icicles growing off the tips of her hair and she had no further patience for anything. "How about I go in this direction-" she pointed right. "You go in  _that_  direction-” she pointed left. “And we both go back to our lives as if we never saw each other. Sound good?”

Jane took one step right, stopping when fingers curled around her wrist and wrenched her back.

"Hey, I’m trying to be nice here." Hal’s borderline handsome face was marred with an ugly scowl. "You could be a little more polite."

"You could try a little harder at the whole ‘nice’ thing," Jane shot back. "Start with letting go."

Her attempts to wrestle herself out of Hal’s grip was only met with his fingers tightening and his face growing darker.

"Oh no," he pulled her in. "You’re not going anywhere until you apologize."

From so close, Jane could just see the tall shadow sliding into view. Though it was too dark to see, the barest hint of narrowed green eyes gave her a pretty good hint who had just arrived.

When Jane fell to the ground, it wasn’t so much that Hal let her go as it was that he was pulled away from her. He was on the ground too by the time Jane had collected herself, Luke’s form tall and imposing over him, like a deadly snake about to devour it’s prey.

"If you have any value at all for your pathetic little life, you will slither away like the worm you are, before I become angry."

 _'What is this if not angry?'_  Jane wondered, glancing the hint of Luke’s clenched white teeth visible at the side of his snarl.

"What the hell?" Hal struggled to his feet. "Why don’t you get out of my face, asshole, before I make you?"

"Oh, very clever retort. I could just stay and spar with you all night long, but I think Jane here is getting cold. Run along now, little boy, while I see her home."

Luke turned away from Hal, having no more use for him than he would a used tissue. He guided Jane away, though she could argue that she needed no help, and they left Hal to gap at their backs and fade away into the night.

"I knew that man was trouble the moment I saw him," Luke said when they were halfway up the street and about to turn. "What sort of person walks around at this time of night in a neon blazer bothering defenseless women who want nothing to do with them?"

"I’m not defenseless," Jane snapped, and the ensuing grin on Luke’s face somehow pissed her off more than anything Hal had done.

"I never said you were, my dear, but would be amiss to say that you would have had trouble shaking him off had I not intervened?"

Jane was not going to give him the satisfaction of a yes, or any other kind of answer. As soon as she got home (if she ever got home), she was going to immediately sign up for some self-defense classes and maybe buy a Taser like Darcy’s. She should’ve done that ages ago exactly for times like tonight.

Rule number four.

"And what does his blazer have to do with anything?" Jane asked, for lack of anything better to say.  Luke grimaced.

"It was just so tacky. It offended my good taste."

"Well, you would know," Jane said.

His fingers played with the lapel of his finely tailored suit jacket (how was he not freezing to death without a proper coat?). Once again, it appeared different than the last three. Meanwhile, Jane was asking stupid questions about stupid subjects when she should have been asking how a prostitute or whatever he wanted to call it got enough money to buy this stuff.

"So, how long have you been lost out here?" Luke asked conversationally after a period of silence.

"What makes you think I’m lost?"

"You mean you often wander around Manhattan at night without money or a phone?"

"How did you know I have no phone?"

"You just informed me of it."

He looked ready to laugh, which would have been bad for him, because if he had, Jane would’ve been tempted to make it so he could never make a sound again. She wasn’t a violent person by nature (really, she wasn’t), but she did not have time for aggravation right now.

"Well, that’s all the more reason for me to start heading home," she said, leaving out the bit about not knowing where home was. "So if you don’t mind, I’ll just be on my way."

"If you really wish to return home, you’ll stay on this path and not divert," Luke said.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Luke’s answer was to jut his chin out, gesturing with it at the street ahead of them. Jane had been blind to the surrounding shops and restaurants up until now. She looked out at a string of decaying television shops and brightly lit Chinese restaurants, including the one she ordered shrimp egg foo young and spring rolls from every Thursday night. She would know that place anywhere.

"I know this neighborhood," she said, turning befuddled eyes on her companion, whom she had inadvertently allowed to lead her all this time.

"This was the route you took on our first encounter," he said, answering the question she had not yet asked. "I happen to have an excellent memory."

Jane would laugh, but the scent of soy sauce wafted heavily from that Chinese place, reminding her that she’d left her dinner untouched. She spent ten minutes inside getting her egg foo young (why should she care that it was only Sunday?), but Luke was still there waiting when she returned, his hands in his pockets and his serene smile intact.

"You know, with this whole following me around and knowing where I live thing, I could easily mistake you for a stalker," Jane said as they started walking.

"Save that for your horribly dressed friend back there," Luke scoffed. "I really am tempted to go back and have another discussion with him about respect and boundaries. In my former profession, I had to deal with many of his breed and others. It always ended the same way."

"Oh, you had another job?" Jane asked while fishing through the bag for her complimentary egg roll.

"Yes," said Luke, and though Jane didn’t look up, she could sense the air around him grow thicker. "My employer only recently got into the business of prostitution. Before that, he had a number of other ventures going, until he was advised of the lucrative nature of the sex trade. At that point, I was relieved of my original duties and relocated, if you will, to the red light district."

"And what did you do before this?"

Luke stopped walking, and Jane didn’t know why until the familiar light of her building’s lobby flickered in her peripheral vision. She stared at it in wonderment, not so much of the light itself but how quickly she’d gotten to it with Luke around.

She knew she should thank him. He deserved it, if nothing else. If he didn’t look so satisfied with himself in that smug way of his, she might’ve tipped him a twenty (knowing him, he’d just demand more).

"Thanks for your help," she said, holding out a hand that he wouldn’t take. "With everything. I appreciate it."

"I’m always happy to be your guide and keep you safe from harm, my dear Jane."

Jane frowned, looking away quickly in the hopes that he wouldn’t catch her cheeks reddening.

"Now why don’t I believe that?" she muttered to herself, walking inside and away from him.

She looked back only once, to see him gone from the front steps, disappearing in the direction from whence they came.

**

Jane had a good breakfast that morning of reheated egg foo young and a glass of milk. The milk tasted a little funny, reminding her that a trip to the market was in order. She’d get to that after work.

She would have to call Betty too and let her know how things had gone. She knew Betty would apologize profusely, and try to set her up with someone else as a way of making it up to her. Jane rested on the living room couch in the hour or so she had before work, thinking about how she could nicely dissuade her friend while the TV played in the background. The reporter on the street was talking about a murder the night before, but Jane wasn’t listening.

_"The unidentified man was found in an alley outside the red light district with blunt force trauma to the head and a knife wound running across the throat. First responders describe it as a grisly, yet surprising clean scene. While it is likely that the victim was involved in a physical altercation with his assailant, police have yet to find prints or a murder weapon, and are now searching for eyewitnesses who can hopefully lead them in the right direction. Meanwhile, all forms of identification have been removed from the body, and so far, the only thing police have been able to find are the shredded and burned remains of what appears to be a green or yellow blazer jacket left close to the body…"_


	6. Chapter Six

He was not going to go away. Not anymore.

Maybe there was a time when he might've-if she hadn't sought him out a second time, and then chanced upon him a third and fourth-but that was no longer an option. Jane knew it wasn't, though acknowledging it was a whole other challenge.

Their fifth encounter wasn't an accident. Not that Jane had actually been looking for him or anything, she just… wasn't not looking for him. She waited around at the bar sipping lukewarm daiquiris until he finished his meeting with another 'business associate,' a man who reminded her a bit of that Malekith guy from Thor's engagement party, what with his beady black eyes and blondish hair coated in grease. He shook Luke's hand when they were finished, and Jane could've sworn she saw Luke wipe his hand with a dinner napkin when the other man looked away.

He walked straight to her, as if he'd always known she was there in spite of Jane's efforts to hide herself. She said not a word and handed him three hundred and fifty dollars cash. That was an hour ago.

One hour later, they were back at her place. She was face down on the bed and his nimble fingers kneaded into her skin, starting at her shoulders and working his way down to the small of her back. She sighed, her whole body warm and tingling. She could float away into heaven on the backs of angels, but that would mean leaving him and his hands behind, and that was not acceptable.

"Had enough?" he asked, leaning to whisper in her ear. Tiny puffs of air caressed her ear and made her shiver.

"Not on your life," she said, her words slurring as he trailed back up to her shoulder blades.

Luke hummed, pulling away slightly, much to her displeasure. A tiny grumble would have made it known, had he not found just the right spot to touch her. It became a happy moan that he greeted with laughter.

"If I'd known how responsive you are to a good massage, I would have suggested this ages ago."

"Yeah, well don't think you're getting a big tip just for this," Jane said, rubbing her eyes to make the room stop spinning. "I have no spare cash for the rest of the month thanks to you."

"I'd be happy to offer you a refund if you are not satisfied with my services."

He pressed that sweet spot again, as if to rub it in her face that such a concept was impossible, because he was just that good. She almost wanted to ask for that refund just to spite him. Instead she sunk back into the mattress, burying her face within the folds of her comforter so that all the little sounds his ministrations evoked couldn't reach him. He was moving back up to her shoulders now, electricity radiating up and down her body. Muffled words that not even she could understand expressed something along the lines of five hours not being nearly enough.

"Since it's you, I can throw in two more for free."

Jane moved her head to the side with some difficulty. She wasn't sure if she'd actually heard that or if the lack of oxygen was causing her to hallucinate. Her eyes strained to meet his, and she found him smirking.

"After that, I'm afraid I'd have to charge full price."

He pressed one more tiny circle into the space below her neck and then backed away, rubbing some kind of cream over his hands while Jane rolled onto her back and definitely did not pout. She remembered too late that her shirt and her bra were off, but couldn't find it in her to care once the initial mortification wore off. It was nothing he hadn't seen before anyway.

It might've helped that he was similarly divest of clothing from the waist up. She didn't know why he'd felt the need to strip down to just his pants to give her a back rub, but as he stopped to stretch, and the muscles of his back and shoulders flexed, she wasn't exactly complaining.

"Now then, I think you're relaxed enough." He walked around the side of the bed, his fingers running featherlight over her legs all the way to her stomach. After the last hour, his touch was like pure heat, and Jane couldn't hope to stifle a moan.

"I think I could be more relaxed," she said, rolling onto her side. His hand stopped her.

"I'm sorry, my dear, but anymore, and I think your mind might just go, along with your body."

In spite of herself, Jane rolled her eyes.

"You sure think highly of your own abilities."

"Your reactions are quite encouraging."

He was just below her breasts now, naked and pebbled from the air and from him. Jane closed her fists around her sheets. If she didn't keep them busy, they'd be clawing at those pants of his and then shoving him down onto the mattress. She was pretty sure all of that was his job.

"You know, I don't remember giving you permission to touch me there yet," she said with a grin she couldn't contain. "I could dock your pay for that."

"You've already paid me." He grinned back. There was a lump of her money in his right pocket, and Jane could see it mocking her.

"I'll kick your ass then."

"Please don't. I rather need my ass, as well as my face, to keep my livelihood." He still hadn't moved his fingers an inch. "Plus, I have a rare blood type, so I would prefer not to lose too much of it."

"Well, isn't that convenient?" Jane brought up her arms to lift her head, bending her body so that her chest jutted out, and made her needs known beyond their banter.

Yet still, he made her wait. He traced a line back down her stomach, on the other side from whence he came, completing a lopsided circle over her abdomen. Though there was must Jane could say about his teasing, it soon became apparent what he was trying to do.

His fingers ran along the rim of her pants, occasionally dipping beneath the waistband. He never went in deep, preferring to stave off the main event for as long as possible. Jane remembered this from their first time together. He had started off just like this, taking so achingly slow a pace that Jane began to wonder if he was doing this intentionally because he wasn't actually that good with 'the main event.'

He had then spent the rest of the night proving her utterly wrong, and most likely ruining her for other men. She could admit that to herself now.

When he finally had enough of driving her to the brink of madness, he found the zipper and pulled it down. Her pants slipped off her legs and her panties went with them, but though Jane was now cold all over, she couldn't say she mourned the loss. Not when he was moving back up her legs and hovering directly over her core.

He wore a look that was unlike anything Jane had ever seen, as he sunk to his knees and covered her partially with his body. It was something wicked and mischievous, and it told her everything about how this night was going to go. He was going to play with her, draw it out until she couldn't take it anymore. He was going to kiss every inch of her from the neck down, never straying any higher (he never had before).

He was going to leave those stupid pants on, until she really was going to have to shred them.

He started from the top, running his tongue along the side of her neck, leaving a wet trail behind along her collarbone. His mouth moved downward while his fingers stayed right above the top of her clit, not quite pressing down, but applying just enough pressure that she was all too aware of his presence. He reached her breast, drawing a line up to her nipple. He circled it…

And five loud knocks shook the apartment and nearly caused her front door to cave in.

Luke stilled, lifting his head to watch the ajar bedroom door, as if someone was going to burst through any second. Jane, for her part, was too busy seething to even notice the loss of his hot breath and fingertips on her sensitive areas until it was too late.

"Were you expecting someone?"

Jane slid out of bed feet first. "Nope."

She walked to the door, grabbing her bathrobe off the top of the laundry bin first. It was the puffy one that was a size too big. She tightened it around herself-she could just tell whoever this was that she was about to get in the shower. Could they possibly come back later? Like, say, a month from now?

Jane peeked out the keyhole first, as the apartment safety guide warned in big black letters to always do. Jane understood why. The man at the door was neither familiar nor the kind of person you wanted in your home under any circumstances.

He appeared to be about eight feet tall and built like a gorilla. He had a sharp face set in a stony frown, and eyes so beady they might as well not even be there. He wore a business suit like Luke, and yet not like Luke. Luke's wardrobe fit him like a glove, whereas this guy would probably be more in place wearing leather and chains. His fist was raised, either to knock again or to skip the semantics and punch a hole in the door. His meaty hand was adorned with golden rings, including one that formed a gnarled letter K. Jane couldn't not believe that it's bent shape hadn't come from punching one too many faces in.

But that was unfair, wasn't it? She had yet to even talk to the guy, and she was judging him by his appearance alone. Maybe he was just a scary looking family man on his way to visit a sick relative on another floor, and he was a little lost and needed directions. Something like that.

Jane opened the door an inch.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Where the fuck is he?"

Jane blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play stupid. I know that pasty little fuck is in here. Tell him to come out now, or I'm coming in."

Okay. Maybe she'd been right all along. She checked that her brand new Taser was still sitting on the end table, and that the chain on the door was firmly in place.

"You know, if you want something, you could try saying please," she said, sounding much braver than she felt. "How about you get lost now. You're interrupting something anyway."

His fist hit the door, and it almost gave. The gold chain held firm, but the force had left cracks along the wall reaching like a spider's web.

The man pressed his face into the space between the door frame before Jane could slam it shut. His putrid breath in her face forced her back, and he pushed open the door as far as it would go.

"I'm going to give you one more chance," his eyes darkened so much that Jane could hardly see them. "Tell him to get out here right now, or I'm going to come in there and drag him out."

"Stop it, Kurse."

Luke entered the room. He was buttoning his shirt and his shoes were back on his feet. From the awkward way he walked, they seemed to be on the wrong feet, but that was far from the first thing on Jane's mind right now.

"What is going on here?" she hissed in Luke's ear.

He walked right on by. Approaching the door, he waited for the man called Kurse to back up, glaring at him all the while, then he undid the latch and opened the door just enough for him to step through.

"Stay here, Jane," he said, and were it not for the use of her name, she wouldn't even know he was talking to her.

The door closed behind him, cutting off the sound of Kurse's heavy breathing, and rendering the voices of the two men a quiet mish mash of noise without meaning.

Jane stood stock still for all of half a second. Then she rushed to the door and shoved her ear into the cold metal above the peephole. Her hand inched to the knob, just in case she heard something she didn't like. She eyed the Taser one more time, and noted it's close proximity to her silverware drawer.

The door was several inches thick, but with all other sounds muted, Jane could just make them out.

"…I don't know why you are bothering me when I'm working. Couldn't this have waited for tomorrow?"

Luke dry tone was almost too easy to pick out, just as the raspy growl of Kurse was.

"When you're breaking the rules and acting like a loose cannon, there is no waiting. Or did you really believe we wouldn't find out about it?"

A short silence followed.

"I'm not sure what you mean. Care to elaborate?"

"That depends," Kurse said, and from here, his voice went much lower, and Jane could only pick up pieces of what he was saying. "Could it be… had dinner with, or that poor sap in the ugly… found in the alleyway? …that ringing any bells…?"

Now a longer silence.

Jane looked through the peephole. Luke was staring down at his incorrectly placed shoes, his fists clenched and his teeth bared. Kurse had his arms crossed and a face like a cat who'd just caught a mouse it's in claws.

"I didn't know what I did during my personal time was any of your concern," said Luke.

"You don't have personal time working for us." Kurse leaned in. "When you aren't flashing your pretty face for all the lonely bitches of the world, you're doing whatever the boss tells you to do, and you're not getting your hands dirty unless you're told to. Get it?"

"In my defense, I was very careful," Luke gave a cheeky smile. "I've had more than enough practice, as you are no doubt aware."

"Oh yeah, sure. You're still alive right now because of that." Kurse placed his hand on a gun shaped bulge in his right pocket, the one Jane hadn't noticed until now. "But let me ask you something,  _Luke_ , are you gonna tell Mommy that when she's got a bullet in her head?"

The door seemed to get a whole lot colder, or maybe that was just the air. Either way, it radiated straight from one source. The smile had fallen from Luke's face, and what took it's place was something like pain, something like fear, and something like rage all rolled into one. Jane didn't think she'd ever met a man with a face as expressive as Luke's was.

"Oh, don't like that, do you?" Kurse cooed. "I saw Mommy just the other day getting her hair done. She was so pretty, I almost couldn't control my trigger finger. It doesn't have to be her who goes first either, you know. I could start with Daddy or Big Brother. I see them around all the time, too. All it takes is one little misstep, and you get a lovely family reunion in the morgue."

"You wouldn't dare," Luke spoke through his teeth. "That isn't part of the deal."

"The deal is that you do as you're told, and they get to keep breathing," Kurse closed the gap a little more. Jane almost thought for one nauseating second that Kurse was going to kiss him. "You step out of line, and Malekith paints them a pretty red color."

Kurse walked around the rigid form of Luke, who couldn't even form a rebuttal as his body shook and his face blanched a sickly white.

"We'll talk again soon," Kurse said, though by now he was long out of view. "Don't worry about calling, I'll know how to find you. You like this chick here a lot, don't you?"

The elevator dinged and the voice of Kurse disappeared. Where he was going, how he'd gotten in, and how traumatized the poor doorman had to be right now were not majors concerns of Jane's right now.

Did he just say  _Malekith_?

 _Malekith_  would do something to Luke's family?

Thor's father's evil old business partner Malekith?

They couldn't possibly be talking about the same guy…

But it had to be. That wasn't a name Jane expected to hear twice in one lifetime.

The millions of questions she wanted to ask almost came spilling out of her a full five minutes later, when Luke regained himself enough to walk through her door looking like he'd zombified in the time since Jane last saw him.

"What was that all about?" she asked first. Demanded was more like it. "Do you actually work with that guy?"

Luke's eyes were on the floor even still. He leaned slightly to one side thanks to the problem of his shoes, and he shook his head in tiny motions. It almost looked like he was having a seizure.

"I can't do this…"

"Do what?" Jane asked.

But he was already on the move, going back to her bedroom and retrieving his coat from the floor. He didn't worry about his shoes, though Jane doubted that was comfortable. He threw on his coat and shoved his tie into one of the deep pockets.

"I'm sorry. I have to go." He was halfway back to the door, and Jane's jaw was on the ground.

"What are you talking about?"

"This is where we part ways, Jane Foster. Please don't come looking for me again. I apologize for cutting this night short, but trust me when I say it's for the best."

"No, I'm not trusting you," Jane said, and though she knew how that sounded, she couldn't backtrack now. "Could you just tell me what's going on instead of walking away with my money like-"

He placed the wad of her cash in her open hand. Jane's words cut off and she stared at it for a long minute. Long enough for him to walk out of her apartment into the hall. His retreating footsteps roused her.

"Wait a minute!"

Jane dropped the money on the table and ran after him. None of her neighbors had come out in the commotion, but Jane had long since forgotten that she was clad only in a loose fitting bathrobe. She ran all the way to the elevators, but no one stood waiting for them, and the numbers were making their way down to zero at much too quick a pace.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was fast. I don't know, I just started writing this one, and then I couldn't stop. It's an important chapter. The story is really going to get started now.

For a week, she didn’t see him.  Didn’t hear from him at all.

She didn’t look for him either.  Work got in the way, and then there was shopping for baby stuff with Darcy (who wanted to be surprised and so needed an equal amount of boy and girl stuff so that she’d be ready for anything).  On Friday, that lazy eyed woman from accounting finally caught up with her and wanted to hear how the speed dating thing went.  Jane learned that her name was Annie, and that Annie was easily distracted from idle conversation by the promise of chocolate chip muffins in the cafeteria. All in all, she’d had far too much to do to add Luke-hunting to the list.

And really, why should she spend her time searching for  a man she barely knew, let alone a prostitute? 

So what if the sex was good.  She’d had good sex before, and with people she actually knew!  She certainly wasn’t picking through newspapers and magazines for a hint of an update on Donald Blake’s big fancy wedding next Spring.

Okay, one time, and only because she was bored.

But it didn’t matter.  She didn’t know anything about Luke or who he was or what he was all about.  That guy, Kurse, could’ve been anyone.  He sure had no trouble using violence to get what he wanted.  What could Luke have ever done to get on the wrong side of someone like that?  She didn’t think he was capable of hurting someone, or committing a crime, but what could she really say about him beyond that he was impossibly smug about everything and good in bed.  Lord only knows what he was like on his own, when she wasn’t around.

So in the end, there was no reason for her to worry about Luke or think about him at all.  She would have to remember that, and stop staying up in the middle of the night when she had work the next day, wondering where he was and if he was okay, and what that demon faced man at Thor’s engagement party had to do with any of this…

**

On Sunday morning—a week after Jane had to make an excuse to the building manager about the cracks on the door—she got a call from Sif while sitting down to breakfast. 

“I’m sorry to call so early,” Sif started by saying.  “I needed to talk to you about something important, and it’s probably better if I do so in person.  Is there a place where we can meet up?”

They arranged to get together at the Starbucks just up the road from Jane’s apartment.  Close enough that she could walk, but not too far as to be a long drive for Sif.  Jane was happy to have remembered her wallet this time, and treated herself to a caramel latte and a sugary scone.  She had gotten two full nights of sleep in a row and helped close a major deal at work last Friday.  She deserved it.

Sif arrived ten minutes later, looking like she’d literally dropped everything at work just to come down.  Her hair was thrown back in a messy ponytail, and her sweatpants and shirt were ruffled and faded. 

“Hi, thanks so much for coming,” she said after making her order and sitting down. 

Jane smiled back.  “Believe me, I don’t need a reason to come down here and get a biscuit.” 

She ripped off a small piece and then offered some of the remainder to Sif, who shook her head.

“No thanks, I’m not one for sweets.”  She left briefly when her name was called to pick up her decaffeinated coffee.  “Anyway, the reason I asked you here is because we’re having a little problem with the wedding.”

“Oh yeah?” Jane took a sip of her drink and pursed her lips.  She should’ve asked for extra caramel.

“Last week, one of my bridesmaids broke her leg while on a ski trip.  She’s going to be all right, but it’s a pretty serious injury, so she’s decided to spend some time recuperating at her parents’ house, and she’s going to have to miss my wedding.”

“Wow, that’s awful,” Jane said.  She had a feeling she knew where this was going, but she waited for Sif to continue.

“So now I’m short one bridesmaid, and I need a replacement before the rehearsal dinner,” Sif gave her a meaningful look.  “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but you are a friend of Thor’s, so I was hoping you’d agree to be my bridesmaid.”

 _“For real?”_  The last time Jane had been part of a wedding, it was her Aunt Marcia’s, and she’d been the flower girl.  Her cousins thought it would be funny to replace her flowers with poison oak leaves, and that whole experience had turned Jane off from weddings for a long time.  “Are you sure you want me?”

“Of course,” Sif said.  ”The dresses are already picked out, we’d just have to have Maria’s resized to fit you, and don’t worry, I’m not one of those brides who puts the bridesmaids in hideous dresses just to make myself look good.”

“No, I can’t imagine that,” Jane said with a little, not-so-certain laugh of her own. 

And that was how she got roped into wedding duty.  Before that, she’d been unsure if she wanted to go to the wedding at all, and now she was part of it.  The next few weeks was a rush of meeting with the other bridesmaids and the maid of honor, helping them plan the bachelorette party, getting fitted for her dress (which, true to Sif’s word, was not ugly in the slightest), and when wedding duties were over with, fielding late night phone calls from an overly emotional Darcy, over Ian being two minutes late coming home from work, and getting her pickles with her ice cream when she wanted sour cream.

At some point when Jane wasn’t looking, her life had transformed into a chick flick.

At least she could say that she hadn’t thought about Luke once.

Nope.  Not at all.  Not even once.

**

The rehearsal dinner came faster than Jane anticipated, not that this was her fault.

“Isn’t the wedding still a month away?” Jane whispered to the maid of honor, a pretty redheaded woman who seemed to get more stares from men than the bride herself.

“Sif and Thor are busy people.  They make time when they can.”  And then she left to meet her husband over by the drinks table.  She was not the friendliest, that Natasha Barton.  Two weeks of seeing her almost every day, and Jane still didn’t know if that was her usual nature, or if Mrs. Barton really just didn’t like her for whatever reason.

At least the other members of the wedding party were pleasant company.  She had gotten properly acquainted with Fandral, who made sure to flirt with her right off the bat, just as Jane made sure to turn him down right off the bat.  He had pouted a little, and Jane had to admit he had a cute pouty face, but he got over it fast and went to sweet talk one of caterers.  Hogun, a groomsmen whose arm Jane would be on during the wedding march, let it slip to her that Fandral had hit on every eligible woman in the room at least once.  Everyone except Natasha, because she was married, Fandral said.

“It’s actually because he’s terrified of her,” said Hogun in the middle of drinks and more of those delicious hors d’oeuvres.  “He never tried it with Sif for the same reason.”

“And because Thor would kill him too,” Jane said while biting into a cheese wedge.

Hogun nodded.  “Yes, but it’s mostly Sif.  Thor would at least give him a headstart.”

Jane burst out laughing, earning stares from a few people sitting close by.  It wasn’t so much what Hogun said that tickled her as it was how he said it.  Hogun had to be the most stoic man she’d ever met.  In the time Jane had known him, not once had a smile graced his features, but he was not without humor, and he could say some of the craziest things with a perfectly straight face.  There were professional comedians who couldn’t do it half as well as he did. 

When dinner commenced, Jane found herself sandwiched between another bridesmaid and someone else she knew nothing about.  First course was served—Jane couldn’t help noticing Fandral and that one caterer were suspiciously absent—and conversation sprung up all around her.  Not being well-acquainted with most of the people present, Jane focused mainly on her food.  It was delicious enough that this wasn’t a problem, but the abundant drinks and salad bar had nature calling fast.  Jane had to weed her way through a thickening sea of bodies to get to the restroom, but it had thinned out by the time she was finished, everyone having refilled their drinks and prepared for the next course to be served.

Several people still were not seated, including the bride and groom themselves.  Jane found them hovering over a cart of bread baskets, speaking in hushed tones.  Whatever they were talking about while hidden away from the rest of the party had to be serious, and Jane would’ve preferred not to bother them.  As she passed, their words carried through the air to her ears.

“It’s been a good night.  Not a sign of that bastard, Malekith, since the start.”

"Darling, don’t-"

While Sif admonished her husband to be not to speak so freely and jinx them, a proverbial dam burst open within Jane, and everything she had worked so hard for weeks to forget and ignore came flooding out.

Luke’s conversation with Kurse, every dirty detail of it, played out in her head, with extra care going to that crucial moment. 

_‘Malekith will paint them a pretty red color.’_

‘Malekith  _will paint them pretty red.’_

_‘Malekith.’_

Just who the hell  _was_  this Malekith person?

There was a tickle in Jane’s throat.  She felt it clear as day, so no one could say that she coughed just to get Thor and Sif’s attention.  There was the opportunity, and though good judgment dictated that she should excuse herself and move on, Jane remained in place.

“Sorry, couldn’t help overhearing,” she said, and that was probably not the best place to start, because Thor was looking like he wanted to kick himself for bringing Malekith up with people around.  This was clearly a much sorer subject than Jane realized.  “I just… I know Sif told me a little about this Malekith guy and…”  _‘Make up a lie, Jane.  Lie now!’_   “I heard some of your relatives talking about him, too.  If you don’t mind me asking, what- what exactly did he do?  I mean- to you guys, what did he do?”

Jane mumbled the last few words, and though they jumbled together and mortification was definitely rising in her gut (she should’ve just walked away), Thor just gave a solemn shake of his head, his broad shoulders sagging.

“If you’d heard so much already, I don’t blame you for being curious,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.  “Don’t fret, Jane Foster, I don’t fault you for it.  Malekith has always been something of a thorn in my family’s side, but the short version is that many years ago, my father discovered him engaging in some shady business deals and reported him to the authorities.”

“Shady… you mean like the mafia?” Jane asked.  Unwelcome images of Luke blindfolded and tied to a chair with a gun to his head flashed in her mind’s eye.

“I’m afraid I don’t know all the details myself,” Thor said.  “My father was only willing to divulge so much to us.  What I know is that Malekith was able to buy his way out of prison, but his reputation in the business world was forever tarnished.  Few legitimate businesses would associate with him, and last we heard, he’d completely embraced organized crime.”

“Word is that he runs everything from extortion to drug rings,” Sif said, with a look like she’d just smelled something nasty. 

“And prostitution?” Jane asked automatically.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Thor said with another, longer sigh.  “Anyway, Malekith swore to my father that one day, he’d have his revenge.  So far, that has only ever extended to crashing our family gettogethers and sending unwanted gifts for holidays and birthdays.  That started about four years ago.  I have no idea what he hopes to gain from it.”

“He hopes for nothing, he’s just insane.” Sif started to walk past them, raising her empty wine glass to a passing waiter.  “If he even thinks about showing up tonight…”

Sif was gone before she could explain just what would happen to Malekith should he make an appearance tonight, but it was just as well.  Nothing she could have said would match what Jane was picturing.

With Sif and her ice cold hatred gone, there was only Thor left, Thor and his warmth.  Jane felt it when he placed a friendly hand on her shoulder, and it eased the fear that had been coursing through her, centered entirely on a man whose life seemed more hellish the more Jane heard.

“You don’t have to worry about old Malekith, Jane,” Thor said.  “He’s clearly too much of a coward to make good on his promise.  All he is is a glorified nuisance.  You’ll likely never see him again.”

Someone called Thor away right then, and though he hesitated, Jane gave him a grin and a little joke to let him see that she was appeased. 

She walked through the party, having missed the main course and not feeling so hungry anyway.  If someone tried to address her, she didn’t know.  Everywhere she looked, she kept thinking there were redish eyes watching her, or long fingers brushing the nape of her neck.  Truly nothing in her life would ever make less sense than how much effort she had to put towards forgetting him, and how comically little was needed to make all that work for naught.

Darcy once told her that she needed to either get a hobby or get laid.  Getting laid hadn’t worked out so well; maybe she should take up knitting.

There was still another hour of this stupid premature rehearsal dinner that she had to get through, and once a real and tangible hand clamped around her wrist, it seemed her need for a distraction had finally been met.

“Jane, come in here.  You’re needed.”

It was Fandral.  He’d finished whatever he was doing with that caterer (who was in the corner fixing her hair and her skirt), and now it seemed he’d gone passed pretty words and straight into action.  He led her into a room where the rest of the wedding part waited.  Natasha was leaning against a curtained wall beside a big screen TV, tapping her foot.  She turned hard eyes on Fandral.

“About time you found her.  Now we can get on with it.”

“Sorry, Nat.  She was a little hard to find.”  He flashed Jane a 120 watt grin, his specialty, it seemed.  “Take a seat, Jane.  You know how important this is.”

“No, I don’t,” Jane said, lowering herself into the nearest empty chair.  “You never told me.”

“Didn’t I?”  Whether or not Fandral was genuinely befuddled at his own forgetfulness, Jane neither knew nor cared, so long as whatever this was did not involve her problems (no,  _Luke’s_ problems) at all. 

“We’re making a video for Thor and Sif, to show at the wedding reception,” said Hogun from his spot next to fellow groomsman, Volstagg. 

“We thought it would be a nice gesture, from us to them, and even though it was finished before you came on board, you deserve to see the finished product with the rest of us.”

Jane couldn’t really see how that was, but Mrs. Barton wasn’t the kind of person you wanted to argue with on little things.  She sat tight as Hogun popped in the DVD, and the TV flared to life, showing a well rendered shot of a silhouetted couple at sunset.  Pretty cliché, at least until it segued into video of one of Thor’s wrestling matches, followed by Sif dropkicking an opponent in a fighting ring.  Across the screen, the title faded in.

THOR & SIF: A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN

Jane cracked a smile, her tiny chuckle drowned out by Fandral and Volstagg’s raucous laughter.  She had a good idea of who’d come up with that opening.

_‘Chronicling the life and times of the handsome Thor Odinson and the beautiful Sif Jaimeson, from its fruitful beginnings…’_

A shot of Thor and Sif as children in the sandbox.  Little Thor had a bucket full of sand, which he proceeded to empty over little Sif’s head.

_‘To the glorious present…’_

A grown up Thor and Sif were arm in arm at a New Year’s celebration, and an obviously tipsy Sif was about to dump her drink into Thor’s hair.

_‘And onwards to the future.  When we look at them now, we know that true love exists.  We see two people so thoroughly made for each other, that it’s written in the stars.’_

Back to young Thor and Sif, sitting on a picnic blanket watching fireworks.  There was another child with them, with a head of black hair, so dark that he was almost invisible except in the moments that the light flashed.

_‘Though they’ve endured many trials in their lives, their love for each other has never faltered, never faded.’_

A slideshow of pictures commenced, first showing Sif with a man and a woman, both with similar color schemes as her.  The pictures from there showed Sif only with the man, the two aging before Jane’s eyes, until the final shot of a darkened grave. 

Well, that was pretty morbid.

But it wasn’t the end.  Next was a Polaroid photo of little Thor with that black haired boy.  Loki, if Jane remembered correctly.  Thor’s dearly departed younger brother who saw fit to end his life in the most brutal way possible.  Was this really something they wanted to remind people of at a wedding?

The pictures continued, showing a progression of ages for Thor and his brother.  They were toddlers first, and then they were young boys playing in the pool with rubber floaties.  Then they were close to preteen age.  Little Loki was growing into his weedy frame, and his face thinned out as he reached teenage years.  At sixteen, he’d started to grow his hair long, and the way it framed his face was a real improvement, not that he didn’t already have a nice face.

In fact, he had a  _very_  nice face.  A familiar face.  A face that Jane knew…

But it couldn’t possibly be what she though it was.  No, it had to be a coincidence.  Loki was dead.  She knew that.

The pictures continued, through junior and senior prom, through high school graduation, then college graduations.  They’d both gone to the same school.  They were so tall now.  They looked so strong.  They had become men before Jane’s eyes.

And it was no longer a coincidence.  Not at all.

Jane stared at the screen until her eyes hurt.  The picture was frozen.  Or maybe she was frozen.  Maybe it was burned into her skull and she’d be seeing it forever.

She couldn’t move.  She couldn’t speak, except for one word wrenched deep from her throat.

“Luke…”

She almost missed Fandral’s eyes on her as the video came to an end, the concern evident there.

“Jane, are you all right?  Jane?”  He waved a hand in her face, laughing nervously when she didn’t respond.  “From that look, I’d reckon you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Jane turned her head, slow and stilted like a mechanical dummy.  She looked at him, not really  _seeing_  him there.  She couldn’t see anything real right now.

“Fandral, you have  _no_  idea.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, this story will be going on a short hiatus until sometime in mid-January. I need to work on some other things before I can come back to this.
> 
> Thanks for understand (and I hope you don't hate me for leaving off where I did).

The place looked even worse the third time around, all those decaying buildings and filthy streets covered in garbage. The cleanest, most modern thing around was a tall street lamp with a light flickering in and out of existence. The long crack around the circumference of the bulb suggested that someone had tried to knock it down with a rock once.

A homeless man in a beat up army jacket slept beneath it, his sign face down against his chest. Jane wouldn’t wake him, but left the two dollar bills she fished out of the glove compartment in his cup. There was her good deed of the week. She could go home with a clean conscience.

The next few people she saw were awake and standing, but not exactly the type she wanted pal around with on an average day. One man leered at her as she drove down the length of his street. He had a woman on each arm and blew smoke from his cigarette in a way Jane supposed was meant to be enticing. All it did was remind her of her first college boyfriend, who smoked three packs a day, and how kissing him made Jane feel like she was going to die of smoke inhalation.

She turned onto another block, and this was one she knew all too well. She slowed to a stop at the corner. On the other end was a streetlight that, unlike the last one, shone bright like the sun on this dark, dank night Jane would have liked to spend at home with a hot cup of cocoa and the TV remote. It was so bright that all within its reach was hers to see, from the open manhole in the middle of the street, to the long shadow stretching from the feet of the person pacing under it.

Jane’s heart leapt. She hit the gas and flew down the street, letting up on the pedal as it came to her that mowing people down in this side of the city wasn’t bound to be a good idea. She still kept to twenty miles an hour until the person on the street corner moved into the light. Their short, stocky frame clothed in midriff bearing bright blues and a faux leather miniskirt couldn’t possibly belong to the person Jane was looking for.

Her car came to a sluggish halt next to a building that used to be an ice cream shop, if the peeling gold sign was any indication. She kept a few feet away from the woman in Luke’s spot ( _‘no Jane, not Luke,’_  she reminded herself for the tenth time that day). That must have been good enough for the eager prostitute. She wobbled on four inch stiletto heels, careful of cracks in the pavement. Her perfect plump red lips and fair skin seemed more and more artificial the closer she came.

"Hey there, cutie," she slung an arm through the side door window, the one Jane really should have rolled up before she came out here. "I’ve been waiting for a pretty face like yours to come by. You looking to have a good time tonight?"

"I’m looking for someone."  Jane sat up a little straighter.  "A man, that is. He has-"

"Oh,  _of course_  you’re looking for a man." The woman leaned against the car, over the open window. The scent of her perfume filled the enclosed space, as strong as if Jane had fallen asleep with the engine running. "Here I am, standing under this dirty streetlight all day long, getting nothing but smelly old men who don’t understand that I’m a ladies’ lady, then finally a chick comes around after hours of the same old shit, and wouldn’t you know it? She’s straight. Just my luck."

The woman pushed herself off the car, slamming a fist into the door that thankfully didn’t leave a dent (though there would be a distinct perfume-y smell permeating the vehicle for months after). She chose a pole that once boasted a street sign as her new resting place, kicking out a foot to balance one impossible heel on the cement.

Jane coughed. ”Well, I’m really sorry about that, Miss…”

"Opal," the woman supplied with a sniff. "And don’t call me Miss. Only paying customers get to call me anything else.  We clear?"

"Clear," Jane said, thinking now might be the time to excuse herself and go on her merry way. "Listen, the guy I’m looking for usually stands under this lamp post."

"I wouldn’t know anything about that," said Opal. "I’m only here because the space was free and I got a tip off that chicks are all over it."

"I can imagine," Jane said, picturing for a moment a line of cars running up and down the street, driven by eager woman waiting for a taste of what Luke ( _‘Not Luke, Jane.’_ ) could offer them. The fantasy didn’t last long, it couldn’t. Not when something deep within Jane that she barely recognized as a part of herself wanted all those imaginary woman to drive themselves off a cliff for even daring to think they could have him.

Jane shook her head hard, dislodging thoughts that disturbed her more than the truth of Luke ( _'Not Luke'_ )'s origins ever could.

"A-anyway, this guy… he calls himself Luke.  He’s really tall, like over six feet. He has black hair to his shoulders, green eyes, and he always wears a suit."

Opal tapped a finger to her chin, her lips puckered in thought, like she was going to lean in and kiss the top of Jane’s car.

"Hmmm… that does ring a bell… your guy a limey, by any chance?"

"If you’re asking if he’s British, then yes, I think so."

Of course, he would logically have to be since she knew Thor’s family had moved here from London when he was a teenager, but there was no need to get into that right now.

"Then yeah, I’ve seen him around," said Opal. "If that’s the guy you’re looking for, you might want to turn right around and head home, sweetheart, because he hasn’t been working the streets for days. You’d have better luck finding a virgin at a stag party than finding Mr. Stuffy Fruitcake anywhere in these parts."

"Wait, hang on a second, what do you mean he hasn’t been around? Where has he been?"

"Shit if I know," Opal said with a shrug. "We ladies and gents of the night don’t exactly go for a tight knit working environment. The only reason I know about your guy is because he went out for drinks with my boy, Horatio, one time, asking him things about his work outside of this, as if that two bit weasel had anything else going except another round of drinks."

She fell silent for a time, muttering occasionally and laughing at whatever inane joke she’d just made that Jane would never hear.

"So you haven’t seen him recently is what you’re saying." 

Opal made that pucker face again.

"I think I saw him yesterday, either that or there’s some other tall, dark, and freaky dude stealing all the chicks away." She snorted. "He was two blocks down that way having a cigarette and watching some other creep in a suit across the street. I doubt he’s still hanging around, but you could check if you're  _that_  eager for his dick. Have a good time."

Opal turned on a heel (which looked close to snapping in half), and that was the end of the conversation. Jane was not likely to get anything else out of her.

She took the left turn Opal had indicated. It brought her to a more open area that was just as dark as any other. There was slightly less grime and a few more people, but that was about all the good Jane had to say.

A few prostitutes, some she recognized from her first time around, glanced hopefully at her car, but Jane had no time to humor them. She drove on, passing an old building with a high stoop. The windows were broken and boarded up, but five or six women littered the steps, enjoying cigarettes and applying make-up. As always, some of them looked her way, only to scoff and go back to sucking ash when she didn't stop.

"Hey!" a raspy voice shouted when Jane stopped at a light. "All little girls should be in bed right now!"

If they laughed, the revving of the engine muted them, and Jane couldn't disagree beyond the patronizing tone anyway.  She should be home right now like a normal person.  She should not be out in the red light district getting directions from angry lesbian prostitutes, but here she was.  No sense in turning back now.

She drove up and down the street one more time.  Those smoking woman had lost all interest in her now that some rich-looking guy in a Maserati was pulling up.  They crowded around him and Jane took the time to look over their place of business.  He could've been hiding behind the stone steps all this time, hidden in shadow and a gaggle of female co-workers.

The only thing she saw was a beat up metal garbage can and a mangy old cat who'd made a bed out of it.  The women returned, missing one of their number, and as the luxury car sped off into the distance, so did Jane make her way to the curb.  

When she did find him, it was completely by chance, a twist of fate that some would attribute to the direct intervention of a higher power.  Jane was not one of those people, so for her it was just a fortunate coincidence that of all places, he'd be back in the alley where she'd run into Hal, and that she'd find him at the exact moment she was ready to give up and forget the whole thing.  

At first she didn't see him.  She came so close to speeding by, that once he appeared in the side of her vision, all decked out in his usual black and walking with purposeful steps and a tall stance (that nevertheless seemed forced once Jane could see him clearly), she almost cracked her head on the windshield putting on the brakes.  

She got out of the car.  She'd thought about doing that a couple of times before to search for him on foot, until she had the good sense to realize what a terrible idea that would be.  She didn't even have her taser.

She followed him a few feet back, her throat closed up so she couldn't call out..  He kept walking, he never slowed down no matter how loud her sneakers smacked against the sidewalk.  When she was close enough to touch him, one shakey hand reached out and pressed ever so lightly into his back.  The material of his coat was so rough and thick, that she didn't think he would feel it, and she very nearly ran into him when he abruptly stopped walking.

"I told you not to look for me."  

The brusque tone of his voice should have been enough to get a remark of equal or more venom from Jane, but just for tonight, she smothered that impulse.  This wasn't another carefree fling where she reluctantly parted with a huge chunk of her life savings, and then he fucked her into oblivion all night long.  This was serious.  This could be life-changing if Jane played her cards right.

"I know what you said."  She'd been preparing herself for this moment ever since she got home from the rehearsal dinner, going over scenarios and different ways he could react to what she knew.  So far, it wasn't doing her much good where nerves were concerned.  "I'm only here because... something came up, and I wanted to talk to you."

He turned around, and though the lights on his face were too dim for Jane to be sure, what little she saw told her that he hadn't been sleeping much.

"I can't imagine what that what be."

He started walking, right back the way he came.  Was he even going anywhere?

"What are you doing out here?"  she asked, running to catch up.  "I was looking for you over at that street corner, you know, the one where I first picked you up-"

"I know where it is," he spat.  "And you shouldn't have been anywhere near it.  Dammit, woman, don't you understand when you're not wanted?"

He was yelling now, loud enough that someone from a miraculously still in use building turned on their lights and opened the window, shouting at them to 'shut the fuck up.'  Jane didn't listen.

"You can't talk to me like that, I came here tonight because I wanted to see you, and I  _need_  to talk to you."

"Whatever it is, bring it up to someone who cares.  Now if you'll excuse me-"

"No, _I will not excuse you!_ "

It was with force Jane never could've possessed without a truckload of adrenaline coursing through her system that she took him by the arm and spun him to face her.  Once she let go, it could only be the frustration she knew to be written all over her face that kept him still, and if so, Jane was glad for it.  She had to get this out before she keeled over from exhaustion.

"Fine then," he said, deceptively soft.  "Go ahead."

It was a challenge Jane was only too happy to take.  If he thought that flimsy play at  intimidation was going to work on her, he really didn't know her well at all.

"I wanted to tell you... uh..."

"So far, this is very informative."

"What I'm trying to say," she paused, first to glare at him, then to breathe in and out, as long and as deep as her lungs would allow.  "I wanted to tell you that my boss is getting married."

He blinked, his eyes going wide in mock surprise.

"Captivating.  I'm so glad I stuck around to hear this fascinating little tidbit about the lives of your fellows.  Thank you, Jane."

This time, she let him get a few steps away, far enough that she had no choice but to speak her next words as loudly as she could.

"You don't understand.  My boss is Thor.  Thor and Sif are getting married."

She expected him to stop, and she expected his frame to crumble after a few long moments of rigidity.  She didn't expect the blank expression that greeted her when he slowly met her gaze once more, like a perfect porcelain mask.

"I know not what you mean," he even spoke robotically now, and Jane's bullshit meter was going into overdrive.

"I think you do," she said, stepping closer to him and away from her car and relative safety.  "I want to understand what is happening here.  I want to know why."

"Why, what?" he asked.

"Why... everything," Jane could have laughed, had the air not taken on that impenetrable thickness she'd come to associate with him.  "Why are we here right now?  Why are _you_  here?  There's a man out there who's been devastated for four whole years because he thinks his brother burned to death.  There's a couple who lost their son and have to live with the thought that he took his own life.  Why is that?  Why did that family have to be split apart like that?  Can you tell me, Loki?  Can you tell me why?"

Jane wasn't crying, but she felt like she should be.  She wasn't one for big impassioned speeches, outside the stuff she had to do for work when one of the higher-ups called in 'sick' and she needed to take his place at a big meeting.  Never before has it felt so real, and this time, when her throat began to constrict, it didn't have a single thing to do with nerves.

A long time passed before Loki spoke again, but Jane was content to wait.  She replaced his true name with the fake one so easily now.  All the secrets were out, and while there was so much that still wasn't clear, she had all th e time in the world to get the answers.

If Jane was not in a place to cry, Loki was about to fall right over the edge.  She could see his eyes shine, no matter how he tried to hide it.  The fringe of his hair acted as a shade for the top of his lowered face, and his fingers had clenched into white knuckled fists.

"Jane," his voice was so rough she could hardly recognize it.  "This doesn't involve you.  There is a reason I told you to stay away.  If you know what is good for you, you'll leave here now, and you won't talk to me or to Thor ever again."

"You know that's not going to happen."

He shook his head, and Jane thought she heard a \\\ laugh beneath all those heaving breaths.

"Yes, you're far too stubborn."  He let up a little on his hands, though his fingers remained in their curled state.  "You know not what you are dealing with, and yet you rush right in because you simply care that much."  His hair parted, and Jane could see his eyes again.  They were like a child's.  "Believe me, Jane, you shouldn't care for a wretch like me.  If you only knew the things I've done, you'd never want to see me again."

Jane shook her head.  "No, no, don't go all brooding romantic hero on me."  She reached out to lift his chin all the way up, and her finger ran down his cheek in something akin to a caress.  "This isn't a love story yet."

She thought he smiled, and she thought he would answer in kind, but then a low rumble started just to the left of them, growing steadily louder until high beams appeared to accompany the ominous sound.

Loki watched them come, his stance changing once again to something Jane couldn't pinpoint.

"No..." he whispered.

"What is it?" Jane asked, but Loki never responded.

The next few seconds came and went in a flurry of color, motion, and sound.  By the end of it, Jane couldn't say for sure what happened first and what came last.  She knew that Loki tackled her, threw her to the ground as a car with tinted windows came screeching along the turn.  She heard two cracks that split the air in time with those awful squealing tires.  She felt Loki's hands leave her, and saw him stumble to wall when the car disappeared and all was calm.

In the fall, she'd hit her head, and pain was spreading like knifes all up and down the back of her skull and neck.  She rolled from her side to her behind, groaning from the effort, and pulled herself up on her elbows.  She waited for the street to stop spinning, and then called out.

"Loki..."

He was still against the wall, one hand out for support while he clutched at his chest with the other.  Air came to him in gasps now.  Jane could've heard it from all the way up the street.

"Loki?"

She picked herself up a little at a time.  Her head was still swimming, and if she moved too quickly the street tilted to the left and the area behind her eyes throbed.  On her feet, she took careful steps, the pain receding little by little in her upright position.  

"Are you okay?"

Not once had he answered her, he was too busy digging his fingers into that metal plate door and ripping his button down shirt clean off.  He held out one frayed end, and the deep red stains made Jane's blood run cold, while his gushed from a pair of pinprick holes in his stomach.

"Oh my God."

She ran to him, no longer feeling the aches or the pains.  His legs gave out when she reached him, and her own knees buckled as he collapsed onto her for the second time that night.  Gently as she could, Jane laid him on his back to assess the damage, but apart from a few nursing classes in college, there was nothing she could do for something like this.

"Hold on, Loki.  I'll call for an ambulance."

She fumbled with her phone, her hands not working to hold it and her fingers unable to dial 911.  She almost called Darcy on speed dial once, and then Chinese takeout two more times.  His red coated hand wrapped around her thin wrist with surprising strength for someone who'd just been shot twice.

"Jane..."

"Just give me another minute, Loki.  I'm gonna get you help.  Just hold on."

"Jane... I like that..."

_"What?"_

He gave her a loopy grin, his eyes glazing over and his breath growing shallow.

"I like... the way you say... my name."

His grip on her loosened, leaving behind a bloody handprint.  His head lolled to one side and his eyelids fluttered.

"Oh no, no no no, don't do this to me, Loki.  Don't you dare do this to me!"

She punched in the numbers with new awareness and determination, and then she took the hand he had held her with and pressed it to her face.  She didn't mind the coppery taste filling her mouth.  She wanted just to feel the warmth of his skin that had yet to seep away, to _know_  that he was alive, and that he would stay alive, as red and blue lights flashed overhead, and sirens blared in the distance.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> Would have been back sooner, but in the middle of writing this chapter, I suddenly noticed an enormous plot hole that needed fixing, so I had to rewrite a few bits to fill it in.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

The medics burst through the double doors, shouting for a doctor using all sorts of medical jargon Jane couldn’t keep up with.  She caught a few words like ‘hemorrhaging’ and ‘surgery’ that she understood perfectly, and they made her run faster so she could try to catch some more.

The ride to the hospital had passed in a blur, but still seemed to take forever.  A paramedic had asked her to sit in the front seat with the driver, and Jane had ignored him completely.  Nothing was going to make her let go of Loki’s hand.  He was semi-conscious throughout the drive, opening his eyes here and there, trying to speak but unable to form words.  Blood seeped from his stomach like water from a ravine.  One medic held a cloth to the wounds, and Jane watched in a sick sort of trance as it slowly turned red in the man’s gloved hands.

Jane ran along with the gurney, keeping hold of his hand all the while.  Her fingers were numb; if she tried to let go, she might not be able to.

A man and a woman, both in white coats, answered the medic’s calls.  The woman directed them to an empty room and the medics ran faster, until Jane could no longer keep up.  Loki’s hand slipped from hers, as if she’d never been holding it.  The female doctor blocked her path.

"I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay in the waiting area," she said, not kind in her words, but not rude either.  "We need to get an idea of his condition before he can have visitors.  Just stay here.  Donna will give you some paperwork to fill out."

The doctor left her standing there, rigid and pale, with fingers that tingled from the cooling feel of him.  They rolled Loki into the exam room, where he was fussed over by a crowd of people in scrubs, until a nurse pulled the curtains to hide them from view. The material was thin enough that Jane could catch a hint of shadows.  Sometimes, they bumped against it and it fluttered outward.  Other times, a hand poked out from the side, grabbing tape or gauze or just closing the curtain a little tighter.  None of it did anything for Jane’s nerves.  It wasn’t enough just knowing that Loki was in good hands.  She had to _see_ it.

A pudgy, middle-aged woman, with permed brown hair and thick coke bottle glasses, approached Jane with papers on a clipboard.

"Did you come here with that man in room seven?"

Jane glanced at Loki’s room and the bold number seven etched into the wall.

"Yeah," she said, and the woman, presumably Donna, handed her the clipboard.

"If you could just fill this out to the best of your ability," she said, and she gave Jane’s hand a reassuring pat.  "Don’t worry about your boyfriend, hon.  He’s in good hands."

"I hope so," Jane said, scanning the page and the words that barely made sense to her.  Her head shot up.  "But he’s not my…"

She stopped talking.  She had no idea how to correct the woman.  Loki wasn’t her boyfriend, but calling him just a friend seemed wrong somehow.  Acquaintance was even worse.  ’Employee’ came to her and it almost brought a smile to her face.

"Forgive me if I misunderstood," Donna said.  "I just assumed you were a couple from the way you were holding his hand before.  It looked like you’d rather be shot yourself than let him out of your sight."

She stood to the side to let Jane finish writing.  The pen wasn’t even uncapped yet, so she’d be waiting a while.

"It reminded me of when my husband had a heart attack last year.  I was so terrified of losing him that I never wanted to leave his side again."

"Is that so?" Jane wrote her name and number under ‘primary contact’, hesitating for a long time at ‘relation to patient.’

"Of course.  He’s the love of my life.  If I lost him, I don’t know what I’d do."

Jane handed back the forms after another minute.  Most of it remained blank, but she just wanted to be alone for a while, without reminiscing receptionists making her feel like she didn’t care enough.  She cared plenty.  She cared so much that her head had filled with a hundred new scenarios of those doctors failing to save Loki before all the blood in his body drained.  Each new one was worse than the last.  She could end up never knowing what had led him to the horrible life he lived.

She might never know him at all.

That terrified her more than anything else.

The minutes dragged on like hours.  Every time a doctor ran by or a machine started beeping or a voice came over the intercom, Jane’s heart clenched and she thought that this was it.  She was going to hear that he was dead from a doctor or a nurse feigning sympathy, like they didn’t do this twenty times a day seven days a week.

A doctor did come out, and he did walk in her direction.  He was the male doctor Jane had seen before, but he lacked the grave expression all the TV doctors Jane had ever seen wore when delivering bad news.

"You’re a friend of the shooting victim?" he asked.

Jane bit her lip.  ”Well… yeah, I am.  How is he?”

"He’s being prepped for surgery.  He’s lost a lot of blood, but luckily, the bullets missed his vital areas, and removing them should be a quick in and out procedure."

Jane drew a shaky breath.

"So he’ll live?" she asked.

The doctor grinned.  ”I’d be surprised if he didn’t.  He’ll have to take it easy for a few weeks, but he is going to walk out of here.”

He shook her hand.  Jane thought she held his tighter than she had Loki’s.  That her relief was so strong seemed disproportionate for someone she was only just starting to learn about.  Sure, they had sex, and sure, she’d been there when he was shot, and sure, he pushed her out of the way of the bullets to save her life, but…

There was definitely a ‘but’ in there somewhere, but she’d lost track of what it was.

The doctor was saying something.  What Jane caught was something about five minutes.

"What?" she asked.

The doctor chuckled.  ”Hope I didn’t lose you there.  I said that we’re moving him in just about five minutes.  You can see him now if you like.”

"Oh.  Okay, sure."

Jane followed him down the hall, passing room seven, which was now devoid of both people and a bed.  They had moved him when she wasn’t looking.  She should have looked harder.

They passed a few more rooms full of young people in bandages and old people hooked up to machines.  One little girl had an enormous bloody gash on the side of her arm covered in gauze, and bile rushed to Jane’s throat as she wondered what could have happened to her.

How did Don even stand it?

No wonder he was always cranky after work.

The doctor led her to an open area, where Loki’s bed was pushed against the wall and a heart monitor beeped slow and steady at his side.  The doctor glanced at the readings, muttering something and then turning away.  Jane took that to mean Loki was fine so far.

"I can only give you a minute with him," said the doctor.  "Then you’re going to have to wait until he’s out of recovery to see him again."

Jane nodded.  She gripped the bars on the side of the bed, looking down at a face that that was strangely peaceful.  His suit and tie had been removed in favor of a hospital gown that barely fit.  His long legs stuck out from beneath the hem, his bare feet edging over the mattress.  His arms were uncovered.  An IV ran from a vein to a blood packet on a pole.  Jane whipped around.

"He has a rare blood type!"

The doctor looked up from his files.

"What?"

"He told me once that he had a rare blood type.  You have to be careful what you give him."

She probably sounded ridiculous, telling a doctor how to do his job like she knew half as much about this as he did.  To his credit, he didn’t call her on it.  He seemed to be one of those ‘nice, understanding’ doctors, the kind a certain ex of hers liked to think he was.

"We already have that covered.  We’d be a terrible excuse for a hospital if we didn’t have blood transfusions for everyone."

A nurse called him over to look at some charts.  He left Jane with a reminder that she had only two minutes.  Left alone, Jane ran her hands along the smooth, cool metal to the end, until she could no longer feel it, but instead something warm and soft.  Her brow furrowed.  She looked down and almost jerked her hand away.  She was holding his again.

Her subconscious mind was doing a whole lot of unnecessary things tonight.  She blamed the shock.

Loki mumbled and groaned like he had in the ambulance.  Jane paid it no mind.  She brushed along his long fingers that used to do so much to drive her mad, but now felt heavy and limp.

"…ane…"

Jane jumped.

Loki’s eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling.  His face bespoke confusion, like he was trying desperately to figure out where he was and how he got there.  His strong voice had been reduced to a croak.

"Jane…"

"Loki," Jane bent over his face, perhaps too low.  Another nurse was giving her a look.  Jane pulled back.  "Don’t worry, they’re going to remove the bullets and then you’ll be fine."

"No… not fine…"

"What are you saying?  Of course you’ll be-"

"No… No… Malekith…"

He drew a long breath, went silent, and for a long, painful moment, Jane thought he wouldn’t speak again, then he exhaled.

"Malekith… will come…"

"What?"  Jane bent again.  Let that nurse glare all she wanted.  "Loki, speak to me.  What is Malekith going to do?"

"The deal’s broken…" Loki gritted his teeth in pain.  "He broke it… now he’ll kill… everyone.  He’ll go after them…"

"Ms. Foster."

The doctor was back.  He had a group of orderlies with him all in a line.  His face said it all.

"Can I just have one more minute with him?" Jane asked.

"I’m afraid we can’t wait any longer."

Jane stood a small way’s away, watching the doctor direct the nurse in unhooking Loki and wheeling him out.  She barely saw what was happening, so consumed by unanswered questions she was.

Why did Malekith break their deal?

Why did Loki make deal with him in the first place?

How did such an evil man get Loki under his thumb?

What more had he threatened him with that Jane didn’t know about?

One thought trounced all others, of Thor and Sif at home with Thor’s parents, unsuspecting of the fate one of their own had been left to, and the kind of danger it put him in.  The same kind of danger they were about to be in.

Jane ran behind the gurney.  She slowed to a stop as they approached the double doors where Jane would not be allowed to enter.

"Loki!" she called out, cupping her hands over her mouth.  "I promise everything is going to be fine.  He’s not going to get away with this, and no one else is going to get hurt!"

A few people in the waiting room and that same old nurse stared after her.  Jane ran in the other direction to an empty space next to Loki’s old room.  Few people walked to and fro and the waiting room was far away enough that their voices were little more than a gentle buzz.

She whipped out her phone, dialing the number before she had a chance to think about it.  That came at the second ring.  What she was about to do would change everything, and possibly throw four people’s lives completely off balance and into a world so very unlike their own.  Maybe she should think a little more about it before she made this call.  Maybe she should-

"Hello?"

Thor sounded so cheerful that Jane wanted to cry.  Her mouth hung open, wordless.

"Hello? Is something there?"

Jane clutched the phone with both hands.

"Thor, it’s me."

She heard a laugh.

"Jane!  A bit late for a personal call, isn’t it?"

 _'You have no idea,'_ Jane thought.  She heard a thump on the other end, like he’d just flopped down on a couch.

"Well, I’m glad you called," he said.  "I needed to talk to you about the menu for the reception.  Our chef wants an idea of what everyone will be having so there won’t be any mistakes.  We had a huge problem with that for my parents’ anniversary-"

"Wait, hang on a second.  I have to tell you something really important."

Thor went quiet.

"Alright, I’m listening."

Jane took a deep breath.

"Thor, you’re in danger."

"In danger?  Of what?"

"Malekith," the name tasted like sulfur on Jane’s tongue.  "You need to get Sif and your parents out of the house right now.  Don’t wait."

"I don’t believe this," Thor muttered.  "Did that bastard get in touch with you?"

"No, Thor, that’s not it, I-"

"Sif told me he spoke to you at the engagement party.  I should have done something then."  Thor’s voice wasn’t as clear now.  Jane thought he might be pacing.  "It’s bad enough that he bothers my family, but to go after my friends if he can’t get to us is a new low."

"No, that’s not it!  Malekith isn’t after me, he’s after _you._   That’s why you all need to get out of there and meet me at NYU hospital, in the emergency room."

"Emergency room?" Thor shouted.  "What are you doing there?  Are you injured?"

"No, I’m fine.  It’s not me, it’s-"

The name caught in her throat.  This was it, she knew.  This was the moment where everything changed.  Trust her to freeze up right when she needed her strength the most.

"Jane?" Thor yelled through the tinny speakers.  "Are you still there?  Jane, talk to me."

The phone was slipping from her hand, Thor’s voice fading a little more with every inch.  Then Jane’s hand tightened, hard enough to crack the plastic.  She brought it back to her ear.

"It’s Loki, Thor," she said, swallowing hard.  "Loki’s here."

This time, the silence that passed between them wasn’t curious or bemused.  It was just dead, like all sound in Thor’s world had been muted, and he was transferring the feeling to her through the phone.  Jane was quite suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating.

"I know how this sounds," she had to struggle to keep her voice down.  "I know it sounds crazy, but Loki is alive.  He faked his death in that fire, and he’s been working for Malekith in exchange for your lives."

"Jane…"

"But now Malekith’s gone back on the deal and he tried to have Loki killed.  He’s going to come after you next."

"Jane."

"Please, you have to believe me!"

"Jane, stop."

He didn’t yell or scream.  He wasn’t even particularly loud, but the force behind those two words echoed, and felt like a physical slap in the face.  Jane couldn’t hear her heart anymore.  She felt like it had stopped.

"Please," she begged.  Her legs were growing weaker.

"Jane, my brother is dead," his breaths sounded shaky.  "It’s taken me a long time to come to terms with never seeing him again, and for you to…"

Jane blinked back tears.

"Thor, you know me.  You know I’d never lie about something like this."

"I thought I knew you, but perhaps I was wrong.  Now I’m going to hang up, and I’m going to pretend we never had this conversation.  If you’re as smart as I’ve always known you to be, you won’t call back."

"No, wait-"

There was a click and a dial tone.  Thor was gone.  Jane stared at her phone’s background—that snapshot of her and Darcy having drinks at New Year’s Eve failed for once to bring a smile to her face—and considered throwing it against the wall and stomping on the remains.  Frustration roared within her.  She channeled it into her next call.  This time around, she didn’t fumble with the number once.

“911 emergency,” the monotone female voice droned.

“Yes, I need the police to get to 267 Fifth Avenue room 1008, the penthouse suite.  It’s registered to Odin Borson.  I have reason to believe that my friends are in danger.”

There was a slight pause.

“You’re friends, huh?  Pretty rich friends.”

“Please, I need you to get the police over there right away.  They need to get them out of there and somewhere safe.”

“Hang on, go slower.  What kind of danger are they in?”

“Look, it’s a long story, and we don’t have a lot of time, but someone is going to be at their home any time now and when they get there, they are going to kill them.”

“And have your friends been made aware of the threat?”

“I tried.”  Jane leaned heavily against the wall.  “They’re convinced that nothing’s wrong, but I know that something is going to happen.  Look into a man named ‘Malekith.’  He’s the one behind this.  Please tell the police to get the Odinson family to safety.”

Another pause followed, during which Jane thought she could hear typing.

“Okay, Ms. Foster, I’m dispatching squad cars to the scene now.  They’ll take care of everything.  You go and get some rest now.”

Rest.  That was a good idea, now that Jane thought about it.  She thanked the dispatcher several times, until the woman’s ‘you’re welcomes’ can out completely baffled.  Jane slid the phone back into her pocket and walked to the waiting room with all those seats that looked more comfortable and inviting with each step.  She choose the closest one, right next to the welcome desk and the doors doctors walked through to deliver news to waiting families.  One of them would be coming for her soon.

Jane was asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.

**

“Ms. Foster.  Ms. Foster?”

Something was on her shoulder, tapping her out of her dreams.  Jane wanted to brush it back, but those blissful few seconds when you’ve just woken up, and all your troubles are far away come to an end.  She snapped awake, wide eyes focusing on the doctor as she stretched out stiff, aching muscles.  This was why one didn’t sleep sitting upright.

“What happened?  Is Loki okay?”

She hoped she didn’t sound too desperate.  Then he might think she was some kind of weirdo.  Then again, he probably saw people like her every day, so maybe not.

“The surgery’s over,” the doctor said.  “He just went into recovery.  It’ll be just a little bit before you can see him.  We were able to successfully remove the bullets, and while he’s going to have a couple of scars, he’s going to make a full recovery.”

“Thank you so much, doctor.”  Jane shook his hand vigorously.

“All in a day’s work.  If you have any friends or family you’d like to alert, now’s the time.”

Jane let go of his hand, her eyes dropping to the floor little by little.  A nurse called to him, saying something about EKG results, and he offered her a quick nod and a goodbye before going off.  Jane didn’t watch him go.

That was another thing she’d forgotten, her failure to warn Thor and her attempt to get the police involved.  According to the clock, almost an hour had passed.  They would have gotten there a long time ago.  Did they make it in time?  Did Thor even let them in?  Or was he so convinced that all was well and that Jane was a nutcase that he sent them away and stayed blissfully unaware of what was going to happen to him, all the way up until…

Well, she’d do herself no good just sitting around wondering.

Jane reached for her phone.  The charge was going down, and he wasn’t likely to pick up if he saw her name on Call ID, but if she just blocked her number and heard Thor’s voice once, at least she’d know he was still alive.

She let the phone ring one time and then snapped it shut.  The very person she wanted to hear from had just burst in through the door, Sif and his parents following in his wake.

“Thor!”

Jane rushed to him.  He looked nothing like the immaculate executive she had come to know.  His forehead glistened with sweat, his dark blue dress shirt was dirty and ripped in several places, including one across the stomach, and the look in his eyes reminded Jane of a tiger on the prowl.  He relaxed just a little when he saw her, and welcomed her in his strong embrace.  Jane hugged him and Sif in turn; she didn’t look much better than her fiance.  There was dirt on her face and arms as if she’d been rolling around on the floor.  Her clothes were rumpled, and her hair was askew and in need of a brush.

“Sorry we’re late,” she said.  “We got held up.”

“But I thought you didn’t believe me,” Jane said to Thor.

He gave a weak shrug and an even weaker smile.  “I didn’t, but right after I hung up on you, our butler, who’s been with us for three and a half years, turned a gun on me and my mother.  I managed to subdue him, but meanwhile, our chef was attacking Sif with a butcher knife.”

“And if I hadn’t noticed an odd smell in my evening coffee,” said a grave faced Odin, “They would have brought me here in a body bag.”

“You’re kidding,” Jane gasped.  That would certainly explain what a mess Thor and Sif were.

“I wish I could say we were,” said Odin, shaking his head.  “Malekith kept a closer watch on my family than I ever could have guessed.”

He was a very old man, Jane noticed.  She’d never spoken to him directly before now, but he looked so much older and smaller up close.  Sif placed a hand on his arm.

“It wasn’t your fault, Father, you couldn’t have foreseen this.”

“I should have,” Odin said.  “Maybe then we…”

His wife offered comfort, but from the look on her face, she was somewhere else.  She looked this way and that, her eyes traveling to every open door and down every hall, like she expected to find something there that she never thought she’d find again.

“We interrogated the butler,” Thor said, drawing attention back to him.  “It took time, but eventually he gave in, and he told us everything about what Malektih had done.  He was hired to watch us, to eliminate us in case… in case…”

But he couldn’t finish, hard as he tried.  Maybe he was having trouble believing it.  Jane could understand that.  For someone who loved his family as much as Thor did, this was too horrible and too good to be true at the same time.

“In case Loki disobeyed,” Jane finished for him.

His father tensed up, his mother choked on a sob, Sif stared straight ahead, and just like that day in Thor’s office—the day that started it all—Jane saw her boss and friend cry.

“Yes.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Hopefully this longer chapter makes up for it.

He looked smaller somehow in the hospital bed. Thinner, too, as if layers upon layers of false skin had been removed to reveal the vulnerable human underneath. Jane thought it was an odd thing to notice first, but stress did strange things to the mind. It caused one to notice all that otherwise wouldn't be a blip on the radar. She had also taken note of his hospital gown; the splotchy periwinkle and the pinprick polka dots that multiple washes had rendered all but invisible. It looked hideous on him. He was going to have a fit when he woke up and saw how they dressed him.

The thought put a tiny smile on her face, and she didn't care how many orderlies glared at her or if Sif threw her another puzzled look. After everything she'd been through, she needed her sense of humor to keep her sanity intact. Knowing Loki, he would agree with her.

The nurse in his room opened the blinds a little wider. She was a tiny woman—smaller even than Jane—with a leathery face and auburn hair in a tidy bun. She nodded at Jane, and then went back to checking Loki's vitals. Without the drab white walls and the IV running from his wrist, he looked no different than that first morning after, when Jane opened her eyes and he was the first thing she saw. How much would things have changed had she been a little less of a coward then? If she had stayed until he woke up, and finished her business with him then and there. She wouldn't have sought him out again if she had, and then he wouldn't be...

_'No, stop that, Jane. It doesn't matter what you did. You didn't put Loki in this hospital bed. You didn't get whoever those guys were to shoot him. There's only one person to blame for all this.'_

Jane's fingers pressed into the glass. She wished it could be a pasty white neck that she was squeezing instead. Jane had never thought herself a violent person by nature, but it was amazing all that she had learned about herself since she met Loki.

To stave off her homicidal urges, Jane turned to the woman beside her. Loki's mother resembled his father in how this night had aged her. Gone was the self-possessed and gracious woman who thrashed anyone who questioned her son's choice of bride with her sharp tongue. This was a woman on the verge of shattering, not because of weakness, but because everything she had once thought to be true had become a cruel lie, and there was no telling where this family could go from here. In all her life, Jane had never wanted to hug a complete stranger quite so much.

Where Jane found leverage on the window, Frigga clutched the strap of her purse until the color had drained completely from her hands. Purple veins already prominent with age protruded as her body shook. The way she was staring at the glass, Jane thought it would collapse into itself at any second. Not that she could blame Frigga for being anxious. Didn't that doctor say they'd be allowed to see him by now?

He was at the moment being accosted by Thor and Odin, the former much more forcefully than the latter. From what Jane could hear, Thor was uncertain if everything possible had been done for Loki, and he had no qualms about making his opinions known.

"Sir, I can assure you, your brother is in good hands. Now that the bullets have been removed, it's only a matter of when he'll wake up."

"But that is my point, doctor, he  _hasn't_  woken up. Forgive me if I find it hard to take your word when it looks like he's been on death's door since we got here."

"Sir, your brother lost a great deal of blood. It'll be a while before his color is normal again, but as the days go by you will see strong improvement and he is going to wake up. Now if you'll please just-"

"I will not 'just'  _anything_ , and do not call me 'sir' one more time or I'll-"

"Thor, be silent!"

At his father's cutting tone, Thor slumped. Suddenly, this six foot former wrestler looked like nothing more than a frightened child throwing a tantrum to hide his fear. With a mumbled apology, Thor stepped aside and let Odin speak to the doctor alone.

"You must forgive my son his outburst," said Odin, "and I thank you again for all that you've done for Loki. It has been… some time since our whole family has been together."

"I'm sorry it had to be like this," said the doctor. The nurse stepped out of Loki's room, leaving the door ajar. Frigga raised her head, fully alert. The nurse looked past her and Jane to nod at the doctor, holding a file in hand that bore Loki's name. "It looks like everything is all set for now. I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting, but you can see him now."

"About bloody time," Thor grumbled, starting for the door.

"Just one thing," the doctor continued. "I'm afraid that while he's on this floor, we can only allow two visitors at a time. The rest of you will have to wait in the lobby."

Thor whirled around, his neck going red as his cheeks. Before he could open his mouth, Odin cut him off once more with a look. From behind, Jane had no way of knowing what kind of look it was, but if it was anything like the one her dad used to wear whenever he caught her sneaking out on school nights, she wouldn't blame Thor for being cowed.

"Of course, you and mother should go first," he said softly. He took Sif by the hand and led her out of the aisle into the crowded waiting area where the level of noise seemed to grow rather than shrink as the night wore on.

Jane made to follow them, but her pace was slow, more like a snail than a person. She walked backwards, so that she could keep an eye on Loki for as long as possible. The shades had been drawn up, and the door left wide open as Odin and Frigga stepped inside. Frigga took the lead, Odin a half step behind. He had his hands on her back, as if pushing her along or afraid that he would have to catch her.

He chose the wrong side. At the foot of the bed, Frigga knees gave in and she pitched forward. Her name ripped from Odin's mouth, but she didn't falter. She might have even intended to fall where she did. She threw herself over him from the side, her head landing on his chest, over his heart.

"My boy," she said through powerful sobs that should have mangled her words beyond recognition. "My boy… my beautiful boy…"

The last thing Jane saw was Odin sinking to her level and giving her that hug around the waist. His face he buried in her shoulder, perhaps to hide his own tears.

In the waiting room, Thor didn't look much better. His head was in his hands, fingers raking through yellow hair peppered with flakes of dried blood and viscera. He bent low in his seat, so low that Jane wouldn't have seen him at all were it not for Sif, ever by his side, waving Jane over.

"How does he look?" she asked.

"Still asleep." Jane fell into an empty seat on Thor's right. Exhaustion had set into her blood once more, making her nap half an hour ago feel like it had happened last week, and she hadn't slept ever since.

"What I don't understand—" Thor lifted his head, "—is how Loki could have gotten mixed up with Malekith in the first place. Why would he walk away from his entire life just to work for someone like that?"

"Protection," Jane said. She caught Thor's questioning stare. "Protection for you, I mean, you and your parents. You said it yourself, Malekith was ready to kill you if Loki didn't do as he said. Something happened to make Malekith decide that Loki wasn't under his thumb anymore."

"But it still doesn't make any sense," said Thor. "This was never Loki's cross to bear."

Jane shrugged helplessly. "All I know is that Malekith sent some muscle after Loki once when he was with me, and I heard him say that Malekith would have you all killed unless Loki did as he said."

Thor shook his head, cursing under his breath and leaving Sif to take over.

"It's funny you should mention that, Jane," she said. "Because I have been meaning to ask… how exactly did you and Loki meet?"

And here was where Jane reached a dead end. She had known the moment she dialed Thor's number that this was going to come up, and that no amount of mental prep and psyching up was going to make it any less awkward. That was why she hadn't tried. Now she wished she had. The only consolation was that it was only Thor and Sif she was facing and not all four of them at once. Her imagination was particularly active tonight, and she kept picturing herself dragged away into a dungeon somewhere on Odin's order, for defiling his son's honor.

"Um…" Jane licked her dry lips. "Uh… do you ah- remember back at the rehearsal dinner when I asked you guys about Malekith's business? And you told me all about how he's into drugs and money laundering and all that?"

A beat passed, and then Thor's eyes bugged out of his head, a comical look for someone usually so loose and easy-going.

"Oh my God, Jane," he gasped. "Loki... did he sell drugs to you?"

Jane nearly fell off her seat. She must have been an amusing sight as there were some kids across the room pointing at her and laughing.

"What? No! No, nothing like  _that!"_

 _"What_ , then?"

The two pairs of eyes on her, waiting impatiently for some kind of response, seemed to have gained the power of two hundred pairs. Jane—coming from a long background of failed attempts at acting in school plays and almost throwing up in the middle of her valedictorian speech—couldn't speak before more than ten or twenty strangers at once about a subject she cared little for. Here were Thor and Sif, people she considered friends, asking her to divulge what had quickly become the biggest secrets she'd ever had to keep. It would be bad enough if they  _weren't_  Loki's long lost family.

"Well… Loki and I met a few months ago. I went out for a drive, and he was…  _working_ , so to speak. I picked him up, and that's how we met."

Please let that be good enough.  _Please_  let that be good enough.

"But what do you mean he was working?"

Damn it.

"Yes, Jane," said Thor. "Not to pry, but I can't help feeling that you're hiding something from us."

If there was any justice in the world, the ground would swallow her up where she sat and then regurgitate her somewhere far away from here. Like back in Loki's room. She could cry it out with Frigga and not have to worry about explaining why she cared.

"What I mean is…" Jane swallowed back a huge lump in her throat. She could still feel stuck in there. "Loki was out... selling… himself."

It hit Sif before it hit Thor, but only by a fraction of a second. By the time Thor's mouth unhinged, Sif had already dropped her cup of water to the floor and doubled over on the arm rest, which she was liable to break off if she didn't ease up on it. As bad as she looked, it was nothing compared to Thor. The way he looked at Jane was indescribable, other than that Jane would've found it hilarious where she seeing it in any other context. Another thing Loki was bound to agree with.

"You meant to tell me that my brother has been… and you were…"

Jane looked down at her shoes.

"I was very upset after my ex got engaged…"

Thor stood up, quite a feat for how badly his knees were knocking. It looked like they would collapse into themselves if he took one step. He made it to three without trouble, ever the tough guy. A sickly wave of green had settled over his. One could only wonder what kind of things he imagined Loki doing (or having done to him). Jane didn't envy him either way.

"Jane, listen to me." He took her by the hand. "You're my friend and I would never judge you for how you go about your private affairs. I'm happy knowing that in the end, it brought Loki back to us alive, but Jane, I am begging you… please do not tell my mother."

Something dark passed by Jane's peripheral vision, sticking out amid the endless train of white lab coats and pastel scrubs. Jane paid it no mind, and it never would have occurred to her that it could be the black of Odin's overcoat if Thor hadn't abruptly let her go and swerved around her.

"Father, has there been a change?"

Something told Jane there wasn't long before Odin spoke.

"He has yet to awaken, but there are other matters to attend to."

"Don't tell me you are going at a time like this," said Sif.

"I am going to Bedford Hills," said Odin, walking past them like a man on a mission. "I have business there."

He had his cell phone out and he fed an address Jane didn't know to the person on the other end. She heard a ruffling of fabric, and looked to see Thor donning his coat.

"If you're going where I think you're going, then I'm coming, too."

"Thor, you should stay in case Loki wakes up. Your mother will need the support."

"Mother is stronger than you give her credit for. If Loki wakes up while we're gone, all it means is he'll be here when we get back. Until then, I want answers just as much as you."

"Wait, hold on a second." Jane ran to catch up with the group. "Who or what is in Bedford Hills that can tell us anything?"

Thor and Sif looked at each other, together forming a mirror image of Jane's own discomfort moments ago. If they were looking for the most delicate way to explain whatever this was, Odin either did not care or was in too much of a hurry.

"Loki's mother is there," he said bluntly. "She resides in the Correctional Facility. If anyone can explain Loki's connection to Malekith, it's her."

That would've made perfect sense. Of course one's own mother will know pretty much everything you do, be it through some kind of maternal instinct or just because you've followed in their sometimes questionable footsteps and repeated all of their mistakes. Had Frigga not been fifty feet away in this very hospital and not an escaped convict as far as Jane knew, she would've had no further questions to ask. As it was, she had a couple.

"But…" she pointed in the direction of Loki's room, unable to get the right words out. She looked to Thor, pleading with him to make sense of this.

He sighed.

"Jane… I don't believe I ever explained to you the falling out Loki had with our parents, did I?"

**

The gates opened slowly, a buzz blaring through the quiet of early morning. Without it, not even a cricket could be heard, only a few lonely cicadas here and there when the car passed by a cluster of trees. Even that could have been a figment of Jane's imagination; her mind filling in for sounds non-existent. In front of this damp brick building with the electrified fence and the men and women with weapons on their belts, everything good and pleasant in the world was sucked away into the abyss. As far as Jane knew, this held true for a lot of prisons. Not that she'd ever been to one before now to find out. They had only just driven through the blockades, a man in a guard uniform flagging them down and directing them to the parking lot, and Jane was certain she never wanted to again.

"I didn't think they'd take visitors so late," she said.

Thor was watching their progress through the window, his breath creating a dense fog that made shapeless blobs of the people outside.

"When you have the clout my family does, they do."

The driver parked outside a black tinted door. A man and a woman stood in front of it, waiting for them. The woman shook Odin's hand, her words of greeting hushed so that no one else could hear them. The man kept silent. He was big and muscular, with sharp features and a perpetual frown that reminded Jane of Hogun, only without the open air of friendliness that existed behind the stoic exterior. He gave Jane a curt nod, then went back to staring into the distance with his hand near his service weapon like he expected something to jump out of the shadows at any time.

"If you'll all follow me, please."

That was the woman, finally speaking up so Jane could hear her. She looked to be Odin's age with puckered lips, graying hair, and a thick brown mole below her left eyes that Jane couldn't help staring at. It was to her immense relief when the woman turned away to lead them inside. Conversation had come to a halt, and Jane was unsure how to pick it up again, not that she had anything of great importance to say. This relative peace in the action gave her time to examine Thor and Odin, note all the subtle similarities in their faces and their posture, similarities notably lacking in Loki. It went beyond the physical and all the way to things as subtle as their walk. Loki carried himself much the way these two did, but his steps had always looked practiced to Jane, like he was so focused on never making a mistake. These were things that came naturally to Thor, and even more so to Odin. When Thor was telling her the story on the way here-with Odin interjecting at random intervals to fill in details Thor wasn't clear on-Jane's first thought had been how earth-shattering it must have been for Loki to find out the truth about his origins after so many years of not knowing. How did it affect his behavior as Jane knew it?

It can't be bad enough to warrant burning a house down, Jane's common sense raged. And she raged back that he didn't just do it because he was angry, and that her common sense needed to shut up. It hadn't helped her this far, so it had no right rearing it's ugly head now.

They entered a sterile room, with gray painted bricks making up the walls. It was narrow and rectangular, lacking furnishings beyond a dusty, armless chair pushed off to one side. They crowded around a wall that was sheer from top to bottom, a two-way mirror. Behind it was a room much like this one, with a plain white table and an extra chair. A single door led in and out. It opened for two men escorting a woman in a dark green jumpsuit. She walked like a drunk at first, requiring the men to drag her forward. A weave of inky black hair covered her face. She pulled it back behind her ears, revealing a prominent nose, white complexion, and sharp cheek bones. Her withered skin lacked imperfection beyond the tide of years, suggesting that she'd been a great beauty once. If Jane looked closely, she saw everything Loki would be if he'd been born a woman.

"I can only give you ten minutes," the woman with the mole said, eyeing Odin. "I'm pulling a lot of strings letting you see her at all. We're not supposed to allow her visitors."

"I will make this quick. Thank you, Marsha."

Odin stepped up to the window, and the opposite door Jane had just noticed was there thanks to the dim lighting. The woman left them, guarded by her large friend, who took to standing in the corner, his hand still right above that trigger.

Odin addressed them. "You two will wait here while I speak to her, and I will hear no arguments."

The last part was a sharp addition, directed at Thor who had just begun to protest. As in the hospital, Odin shut down every one of his son's complaints before they could be lodged. He shot the guard an appraising look and seemed satisfied that he would not get involved and keep them uninvolved, too. He disappeared through the door, returning moments later behind the mirror. The woman at the table didn't react to his presence, when he came in or when he sat down in front of her. She continued to pick at her nails like nothing had changed, and it took Odin clearing his throat three times for her to stop.

"Farbauti," Odin said.

Her lips curled into a snarl.

"Well, I never thought this day would come." She lifted her head, facing the lamp. She was even more haggard than Jane thought. "How long has it been since they locked me up in here... thirty years?

"Twenty seven."

"Ah, yes. That's right." She flipped her hair. "You'll forgive my mistake. When you're serving two consecutive life sentences without possibility of parole, keeping time loses it's importance. Who would have thought it had been so long since you and your family ruined my life?"

Odin's eyes narrowed. "Farbauti, everything that has happened to you, you brought upon yourself. What you and Laufey did-"

She slammed her hands on the table. Both Thor and the guard took a step forward, their stances those of battle ready warriors.

"Don't you  _dare_  speak his name," Farbauti growled. "You have no right. You of all people."

"And how have I ever wronged you?"

She laughed, a hollow sound if Jane had ever heard one.

"That is the question of the hour. How have you wronged me? Let's see." She held up a fist, raising one long finger at a time as she ticked off the reasons. "First, you drive that fool Malekith into our territory. Don't think you aren't to blame for that either, Borson. If you hadn't ousted him from your company and had him exiled from good society, he never would've come to us for help, and he never would've had the opportunity to worm his way in and destroy us from the inside. I would never have ended up in here, my husband wouldn't have died, and you would never have gotten your filthy hands on my son, let alone killed him."

"That was-"

"That was your doing, Borson, don't you deny it.  _You killed my son!_  It was _your_  fault!"

The room began to feel cold, like there was ice spreading out from the cracks in the wall and turning the place into a frozen tundra. Jane pulled her coat more tightly around herself. She should have taken something warmer when she left all those hours ago, or at least something that buttoned.

A long pause followed Farbauti's outburst, and it did little to ease tension, which seemed to grow and thicken with each passing second. Farbauti heaved deep breaths through her mouth like she'd just run a marathon, and it seemed the calmer Odin remained, the more aggravated she became.

"That is what I came here to discuss with you," Odin said, joining his hands together. "It appears I owe you an apology. Your grief has been unwarranted, as has mine, and all of ours."

Farbauti furrowed her brow.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Loki is alive, Farbauti. He faked his death, and I'd like you to help me understand why he did it."

If this was all there was to Odin's plan, Jane didn't know how great the results would be. It seemed to her that Farbauti was little more than a bitter criminal looking for any avenue to justify her crimes or deflect the blame. Of course it was Odin's fault she'd been arrested and her husband murdered. It was his dastardly finger that pointed the killer in their direction, and it was his diabolical plan to take away her son and raise him in a loving environment. Whether or not that really made sense to her was a subject Jane wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. She only had a vague idea of the woman's history based on Thor's hasty description. To her understanding, it involved a lot of drug trafficking, money laundering, and outright murder. They were bad people, Laufey and Farbauti. As far as Jane could tell, the only good they'd ever brought to the world was their son.

She couldn't look at this woman as anything more than an inmate, but as Odin's words sunk in, and the truth of them became evident (because no one could look at someone so serious and think them a liar), there was a quick, fleeting moment where Farbauti became a mother.

"My son lives…" she whispered like it was a prayer. "He lives… if you are lying to me, Borson…"

"You know I'm not."

The coolness returned, but there was something new to it. Jane shivered at the chill going up her spine, but no longer did she ache to run far in the opposite direction as she could. She didn't think she could move if she wanted to.

"Well…" Farbauti tilted her chin upward, display dry yet reddened eyes. "That is… truly excellent news. I'm not sure how much it relates to me since, alive or dead, I will never get to see him. Might I ask how you found him?"

"It's a long story, and time is against us," Odin tapped his wristwatch. "All you need to know is that he's alive, and the reason it relates to you is because it appears he faked his death to go and work for Malekith."

Farbauti's hands curled into fists, her fingers scratching the table and creating a painful sound as they went.

"Is that so?" She spoke so softly that Jane had to strain to hear her. "Then perhaps it's for the best that he never knew the truth. To think he would willingly put himself under the thumb of the man who murdered his father."

"Farbauti, I know my son," Odin said. He seemed unfazed by her venomous glare and the way she seemed to be restraining herself from jumping over the table and clawing his face off. "He is many things. In the weeks before we lost him, he said many things that I will never forget… but this is not like him. He would not have thrown his life away and become pawn to a crime lord all out of spite."

"Are you sure?" Farbauti asked tauntingly. "Maybe you don't know my son as well as you think you do."

"Enough of this. You are wasting my time." Odin leaned in, his single eye sharp. "All I want to know from you is what happened between Malekith and Laufey."

"And what will that tell you?"

"That is none of your concern, I merely need to know."

At that, a sly little smile stretched across Farbauti's face and now Jane knew where Loki got it from.

"None of my concern. Yes, I suppose it isn't." She chuckled. "But I don't know what you think I have to say that can help you. You're not trying to imply that he would avenge a father he never knew was his, are you?"

"Farbauti." Odin adopted a warning tone of voice.

After a long moment, Farbauti sighed, a loud, long, exaggerated thing meant to make Odin sweat for just a little longer.

"Well, if it really means so much to you…" she propped her head up on her elbows, close to his ear like she was about to reveal an elicit secret. "Let me tell you all you need to know. It won't be long before that bitch Marsha returns to have her goons throw me back in my cell. Unless you ask her for an extension, that is."

"Enough stalling. Tell me now."

"Oh, temper, temper. All right, your majesty, here it is: when Laufey and I welcomed Malekith into our ranks, we thought he was just another sniveling little cog trying to feel like less of a pussy and more of a tough guy by getting his hands on a gun and some big money. In a way, we were right. Malekith is and always will be a Grade A pussy. If he wasn't, he would've had the guts to kill Laufey to his face instead of slipping cyanide in his coffee. When Laufey got into the business, he shot his first boss point blank in the face a month in. He was a real man is what I'm saying."

Odin, though outwardly unchanged, was getting a bit of a nervous twitch.

"What are you telling me?"

"Oh, come on, Odin, it's simple. Malekith may be a pussy, but he's a pussy with a brain. He understood the way things worked for us. The hierarchy is based on who has the upper hand, and if an underling gets too powerful and isn't smart enough to hide it, they have to go. The trick is to make yourself weak until you get the opportunity to show your strength, but that's if you're a rat like Malekith, then you sneak your way in."

"So what you're saying," Odin dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, "is that Malekith took over from Laufey after killing him."

"He took over from Laufey  _because_  he killed him. That's how it always goes. Once the old King is dead and the new King takes over, all the little worker bees flock to the new King. They know that the only way to survive in this world is throw their lot in with the strongest."

Someone thumped on the door, and the guard in the corner sprang up to open it. The woman with the mole stepped inside. She walked to the two-way mirror and tapped on the glass.

"Mr. Borson, I have to come in now."

Odin glanced at the mirror. To him it was just a sheet of black. Farbauti grinned, displaying straight yet yellowed teeth that almost blended into her gums. Jane felt bile rush to her throat, backlash from everything she had seen and heard today, to which this one disgusting sight was the cherry on top. She swallowed it back, caring little for the burning sensations that followed. She watched Odin greet Marsha at the inside door and then join her and Thor in the hallway. Father and son shared not a word, and Jane, too, found herself speechless as they left the horrible place for home.

They were on the outskirts of the city when Thor finally spoke.

"I can't believe a woman like that is Loki's birth mother."

"No kidding," Jane mumbled

"If I recall, she was at least more outwardly appealing thirty years ago." Odin looked out at the misty condensation. It was going to rain soon, if it hadn't already. "As it is, at least now we have an idea of how far Malekith's reach extends."

"We do?" Jane asked. Thor and Odin stared at her, making her think she'd just asked a really stupid question and lower her head accordingly.

"You must not be well-versed in the lives of modern day criminals, Ms. Foster," Odin said, not unkindly. "Laufey was a fearsome man in his time, and Malekith holds all the power he once did. That doesn't factor in the connections he must have made since then."

"We may have survived this night," Thor said, his face darkening, "but Malekith will never stop hunting us until we are all dead. He has the resources to keep this going for years."

"But there has to be  _something_  you can do." Jane placed her hand on Thor's, wishing that he'd meet her despairing gaze. "What about the police? They're part of the reason you got away from him this time, if we can just gather evidence against Malekith-"

"It is not that simple, Ms. Foster," said Odin. "Believe me, if I could have had him arrested, I would have done it decades ago, but the evidence you speak of just doesn't exist. Farbauti was right when she said Malekith is smart. He knows how to cover his tracks."

"Yes, and what do you mean the police helped us, Jane?" Thor asked. "Sif and I fought off Malekith's man alone. There were never any police."

"But there must have been," Jane said, shaking her head. "I called them after you hung up on me, and the dispatcher told me-"

The tires bumped along on the gravely streets that led back to Manhattan, jostling the car and taking Jane with it. She was no longer able to hold herself down. Her whole body felt like it had shut down, turning to some immovable kind of jelly that made her think she'd fall to pieces if someone tried to touch her.

Her mind rewound itself back to the frantic call she had made, to that monotone woman and her surprising reassurance at the end of the call.

_"Okay, Ms. Foster. I'm dispatching squad cars to the scene now. They'll take care of everything."_

"My name," Jane whispered.

Thor bent to look at her, worry written across his face.

"Jane, what's wrong?"

Jane blinked once, and then a few more times. Her eyes stung all of a sudden, and felt painful like the sinking in her stomach.

"My name, Thor. The dispatcher said my name. I never told her my name."


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back in business with four more chapters to go!

Odin had been on the phone for twenty minutes.  He paced outside Loki’s room, his shadow passing over the bed and Jane’s joined hands more times than she could be bothered to count.  If she looked up, she’d see the same thing every time: Odin at the window, talking or yelling or barking at whatever poor soul was on the other end.

Not that Jane looked up very much.  Her attentions shifted between her white, sweaty palms and Loki.  Though he had yet to wake up, he was looking much better.  More like his usual self, like she could just tap him on the shoulder and whisper in his ear, and then he’d open his eyes and everything would be normal again.

Not that anything had been all that normal before. 

She glanced at Thor on Loki’s other side.  He seemed to have forgotten she was there, just like he had forgotten everything else save for what was right in front of him.  He smoothed the thin white bed sheets, removing every fold and crease with an almost obsessive precision.  With his other hand, he gripped the side railing, hard enough that Jane thought he’d rip it off.  For a time, she had considered breaking the silence- and therefore the tension- but then her throat would close up, and she’d think maybe that was Loki squeezing her hand back that she felt, and she’d remember that she didn’t have anything to say.  The silence had become a comfort.

The door swung open on squeaky hinges.  Odin stood at the threshold.

“Thor, come here a moment.”

Jane looked from him to Thor, who kept his head down and removed a fold in Loki’s blanket that he may well have caused himself.

“Thor!”

Jane jumped, and though it had not been her snapped at like that, she felt the sting of Odin’s ire like a slap in the face.  So strong it was, that even Thor, in all his need to be the protective older brother and watch over the younger, got to his feet and left with one last, lingering look at Loki’s face.

“Ms. Foster, if you could come, too,” Odin said, much more gently.

Though she probably wanted to leave even less than Thor did, Jane pulled her hand free of Loki’s and followed him.

“How goes the arrangements?” Thor asked.  They huddled close together, away from anyone who could overhear.

“The penthouse will be under constant surveillance and all of our remaining staff will be vetted for connections with Malekith,” Odin said, pocketing his cell phone.  “I put a call in to Heimdall.  He’s sending his best men.”

Thor nodded.  Jane had no idea who this Heimdall guy was, but he must have been good news if hearing his name made Thor relax.

“What about the estate at the Hampton's?”

“Also on lock down.  The summer home and the Long Island mansion as well.  We are not cutting any corners when it comes to Malekith.  Anything we can think of, he will think of.”

“And what of our lodgings for the night?”

“Your mother has reserved rooms at the Affinia.  She knows people there who will keep quiet.  Hopefully, Malekith will focus on the more high class establishments first when looking for us.  Until then, there will be one room for your mother and I, and one for you, Sif, and Ms. Foster several doors down and across.”

Thor nodded again.  “Keeping our rooms a fair distance apart might also throw Malekith off.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Wait a second.”

Both men looked at Jane.

“I’m sorry, did I hear my name somewhere in that?”

They blinked at her.

“Of course,” Thor said without missing a beat. 

“Ms. Foster, you said it yourself that Malekith most likely knows who you are.  I have no trouble believing he has people infiltrating the police and emergency services, and if you have been targeted with the rest of us, it is our responsibility to see to your safety.”

He spoke as if she’d just placed an enormous burden on his shoulders by getting a big red target that matched his own painted on her forehead.  If this was Odin Borson’s natural state of being, she had to wonder if Thor wasn’t really the adopted one.

“Okay, but... I still can’t impose on you guys like this.  I’m not even family.”

“Don’t say that.”  

Frigga appeared from the waiting room with Sif close behind, watching carefully her future mother-in-law and everyone else who came close.  Loki’s mother had dried her tears, and where before she had looked more than her age, now Jane could see the confident matriarch she’d first been introduced to at the engagement dinner.  

“Ms. Foster, I know we are not well acquainted,” Frigga said, “but my son is alive tonight because of you.  We have him back because of you.  If that doesn’t make you family, then I don’t know what does.”

She had been wrong that Frigga would not cry anymore.  Tears had welled up in the corners of her eyes, not yet shed, but speaking of more than sadness.  She reminded Jane of her own mother, so many years ago, the way she had comforted Jane after a bad nightmare or when a bully pushed her in the dirt.  Holding her when she cried and singing her to sleep.  She could see this woman doing all of that and more for her sons, and she thought, not for the first time, how hard it must have been for Loki to leave it all behind.

Over Frigga’s shoulder, Thor joined hands with his fiancee, and the two of them met Jane’s gaze with warm smiles that belayed the fear and anxiety permeating in the air.  For just one second, there was a peace among them, in this tight family circle that she’d somehow found acceptance in, and Jane realized Frigga wasn’t the only one about to cry.

“I... thank you.  Thank you so much.”

**

They stayed at the hospital until night fell.  No one felt safe enough to go farther than the waiting room.  When they did, it was with Thor or Sif close behind, watching for anyone or anything even the slightest bit suspicious.  If some poor unsuspecting nurse came into view with a tray of scalpels or a syringe, they were subjected to one of Thor’s very impressive death glares, until they either ran or Thor realized his mistake and apologized (and they usually ran anyway).  

Jane and Sif returned late in the afternoon from a bathroom run to find Odin and Frigga, leaning shoulder to shoulder, fast asleep.  Thor kept a close watch on them, slumped over with his jacket off at his feet.  He didn’t see them coming and jumped up when Sif sat down beside him.  He blindly raised a fist and Jane had to stifle a scream, but Sif was unperturbed.

“You haven’t slept in ages, love,” she said, bringing his knuckles to her lips.  “It does you no good.  You should try and rest.”

“How can I when Malekith could be anywhere?”

But Jane agreed with Sif.  Thor was a big guy and he liked everyone to know how tough he was, but he wasn’t a god.  He had his limits.  He knew it, too.  He showed it in the way he let Sif fold up his coat and place between his head and the wall, with only a grumble as his meager protest before exhaustion set in and his head lolled onto his shoulder.  Soft snores emitted from his parted lips, eased when Sif slid under his arm and rested on his shoulder.  In his sleep, the arm tightened around her.

“You should get some rest, too, Jane,” she said.

“I’m fine,” Jane said, and at Sif’s skeptical look, “really, I am.  I’ve been known to stay up pretty late.”

“It’s still not good to wear yourself out.  I will be up to keep watch for now, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“I know I don’t.”  After everything Jane had seen, she was pretty sure she could trust Sif and Thor both with her life.  “I just don’t think I’d be able to make myself sleep even if I wanted to.”

Sif smiled.  “That’s the burden of a heavy heart.”

Jane didn’t know exactly what was meant by that, but she wouldn’t know how to ask if she wanted to.  Minutes dragged on with only the swirl of hospital activity and Thor’s hard breathing meeting her ears.  Jane crossed her legs under the chair, staring awkwardly at the ground.

“Look, uh... about what I told you before,” Jane said, pausing to cough, “about me and Loki, and how we met...”

“If you wish to apologize, then don’t.  There is nothing for you to be sorry for,” Sif spoke with such conviction.  She had to be taking a page out of Frigga’s book.  “It’s like Thor said, you brought Loki back to us, and while I can’t imagine why he’d allow Malekith to make a prostitute out of him, I’m not terribly surprised that he wound up in that situation.”

Jane’s head snapped up.  “What?”

Sif shrugged.  “It’s just that Loki always had... a certain way with women, let’s say.  I myself always thought he was a complete ass-”

“He  _is_  a complete ass,” Jane muttered, and Sif’s smile widened.

“Yes, but,” her voice became soft, wistful even, “it seems there’s more to Loki than I gave him credit for.  He’s a fool to leave his family behind, but to risk his very life for them, even after learning the truth...”

Jane nodded.  Sif didn’t need to finish, she understood perfectly.  

At a quarter after nine, Jane took to staring at the wall clock, watching the time tick away until ten.  Every now and then, she looked for Loki’s doctor or one of the nurses, come to let them know that Loki had opened his eyes at last and they could all take a deep breath and prepare for a tearful reunion.  It didn’t look like that would be happening today.  The doctors couldn’t say what was taking so long for Loki to wake up.  All his vitals were normal and there had been no problems during his surgery.  He was in perfect health, strong as an ox; he could probably just get up and walk out as soon as he was awake.  The last time anyone came to give them news was five hours ago, just to let them know that Loki was still unconscious and not at risk of anything greater than some nasty bed sores.  

Thor had been beside himself.  It had taken the combined efforts of Frigga and Sif to calm him down before he punched the poor doctor’s lights out.  Odin had been making another call to that Heimdall guy and wasn’t there to scare his son into submission.  Afterwards, Thor had fumed for hours, staying with Loki as much as he could during visiting hours and eating only when food was brought to him.  It was really no wonder that he’d lost steam at the rate he was going.  Jane felt for him, only child she may have been.  If she were in his place, they would have to drag her away from Loki’s side.  She was a hair’s breath away from that point as it was.

The hour hand’s painful creep down had ended at six.  Jane stood and shook her legs to get the blood flow back.  Multiple hours sitting in the same spot wasn’t new to her, but the added stress was a nightmare on her bones, and she needed to get up and move.

“I’m going to go check on him,” she told Sif.

“Visiting hours are over.”

“I just want to look in real quick.”

If Sif wanted to object, she thought better of it.  She returned to the task of drawing circles into Thor’s arm and watched carefully for trouble as Jane stepped into the hall and out of view.  Turning a corner, Jane’s eyes darted up and down.  Odin had said Malekith’s men could be anywhere, but so could the people working for him that would protect them.  How to tell which was which was another matter entirely, but there was no obvious danger and (from what Jane could see) few places anyone threatening could be hiding.  

Loki’s room was up ahead and the lights were all off.  As day turned to night, shift changes came, and the area was mostly barren.  Jane stepped into Loki’s room through the unlocked door, neither fearing nor caring that she might be stopped.  She needed to see Loki at least one more time before they left or it would gnaw at her until he woke up.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness.  The screens and glowing numbers were all that kept the room from pitch black.  Dimly, Jane could see something dark sitting at the foot of the bed.  Brow furrowed, she got a little closer, and it stared back at her.  Jane’s next breath caught in her throat.

“You’re awake!”  She covered her mouth.  She hadn’t meant to scream.  “I was starting to think you’d be asleep forever.”

He might have smiled, but it was too dark to tell.  His entire face was in shadow, his expression a mystery.  Closing the door, Jane walked to the bed and stopped short of sitting next to him.  Something about it didn’t feel right to her, like it would be too intimate.  His mother had said she was part of the family now, but there was only one way Jane would really feel like she belonged with the Odinsons, and  _that_ was not a thought she should be entertaining here.  

“Are you feeling better?” she asked.  He hadn’t spoken yet, and it was getting to her fast.  Since when did Loki not adore the sound of his own voice?

_‘Since he almost died and realized his entire family could be going with him, genius.’_

“I’ve been worse,” he said, with a scratchy quality befitting of someone who’d had nothing to drink for hours.  

“Worse than getting shot?”  

“Did I ever tell you the story of how I learned I was adopted?”  

Jane blinked, the oddness of the question outweighed only by how out of place it was.  

“I... I don’t understand.”

“It’s a simple question,” he said, “though, admittedly, not a very good one.  You couldn’t possibly know.  Not unless someone else told you.”

He wasn’t looking at her, and his words weren’t even accusatory.  Jane’s face heated up regardless.

“I called them,” she said quickly, before she lost the nerve, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause more trouble-”

“I think you’ve averted far more than you’ve caused.”

“-it’s just that after what you told me, I couldn’t leave them all alone with that nutjob running around and-”

“Jane, calm down.”

It felt like a command, though Jane knew logically that it wasn’t.  He had just woken up after a day and a half on the tightrope between life and death.  He was probably hungry and thirsty and still in pain, and here she was babbling like an idiot and not letting him breathe.  She should have been searching the room for a water pitcher or calling for a doctor or something more productive than flashing back to their second encounter, when he’d ‘jokingly’ suggested they try a Master/slave roleplay and Jane had just about choked on the coffee she was drinking.  

“It was five years ago,” he said.  “I was... bitter about a holiday dinner party that ended in disaster when Thor decided he would challenge our friends to a snowball fight.  He tried to get me involved, but I stopped going along with his games back in high school.  I wasn’t about to start again now.”

He chuckled, a sad sound.  Regretful, even.

“In the end, I was right about what a bad idea it was.  Thor threw a wad of ice he’d mistaken for snow.  His aim was off, and instead of hitting Fandral, he broke a window and our mother’s favorite centerpiece that she’d taken out for the party.  I couldn’t believe how foolish he had been.  Surely, he could have taken a moment to ensure that the snow he was about to lob at someone’s head really was snow.”

He clenched a fist.

“I assisted him in cleaning up.  Our Aunt Freyja happened to be nearby.  She was a bit tipsy as was common for family get-togethers, and that day, I learned that she is a talkative sort of drunk.  Very loose lipped.  It happened when I made the mistake of mentioning my disbelief that Thor and I were related within her earshot.  She looked up at me from her drink and said, ‘It’s a good thing you really aren’t, dear.’”

His infliction didn’t change, nor did his pitch, but Jane had to wonder how many times he had heard those words, in his aunt’s voice, repeated eternally long after the fact.

“Naturally, I thought it just the typical ramblings of a drunk, but then, a few days later, I related Freyja’s strange remark to my mother over afternoon tea.  I thought it would be something we could have a good laugh about before moving on to idle conversation.  Jane... the look on my mother’s face is something I will never forget.  She didn’t laugh, she didn’t smile, she just stared at me, like she didn’t want to see me anymore.  That was when I knew.  At first, I didn’t want to admit it, and for months after I tried to forget it, but in the end, I knew couldn’t hide from it.  I investigated, and it wasn’t long before I found the truth.  The truth about my life, about the lie that I lived.”

Jane had a sudden urge to grab his hand, to rub his knuckles the way Sif did for Thor, to comfort him through the pain, to bring peace back.  Just to give the illusion that everything was all right.  

“Loki,” she whispered.

“Jane,” he answered, looking down at her.  “Do you have any idea the sort of monster my true father was?”

For a moment, Jane saw Farbauti again, the woman’s mass of uncombed hair and wide, crazy eyes that rolled around in her head, and she cringed.

“A little,” she said, softly. “What are you going to do now?”

“I have some work to do,” he said.  “It’s very important that I finish it soon.”

“Shouldn’t you rest a little longer?” Jane patted the bed.  “You just had two bullets removed, and your family wants to see you.  You’re not going to leave them again, are you?”

This time, when he laughed, there was humor to it, and Jane’s heart skipped a beat.

“I didn’t realize you cared so much about their feelings.”

Jane looked at him, deep into his eyes.  “I care about _you_.”

Something changed in his stance that she couldn’t quite place.  His body tensed, the muscles in his jaw flexing as his back went straight.  He looked down at her, face hidden in the dark now that he faced away from the light.  Jane could see nothing at all except his hands moving.  They closed around her cheeks.  They were so big...

“Jane,” he said thickly.  “Just in case, there is something that I must do.”

“Just it case... what...?”

Her question was lost along with her cares as his lips pressed into hers.  He was soft at first, not pushing or prodding, but then as seconds passed, he became more bold.  He brushed his tongue over her lips.  Jane opened her mouth in a haze and put everything she had learned from high school games of Seven Minutes in Heaven to work trying to keep up with him. She was fighting an uphill battle and she hadn’t a prayer.

If this was how he kissed, she was lucky he never wanted to do it on the job.  She would’ve fallen in love with him ages ago if he had.

“Jane...” he pulled away an inch, holding her close to bring her in when he wanted to.

“You know,” Jane said, licking her lips.  “I like the way you say my name, too.”

He looked like he wanted to kiss her again.  She hoped to God he would, and that he’d never stop.  

“I think you should get some sleep, Jane.”

He disentangled himself from her, getting to his feet with his hands still wrapped around her wrists.  He led her to the vacant chair and sat her down, and now that Jane thought about it, it  _was_  a comfortable chair, and her eyes  _were_  a little heavy.  

“I’m not that tired,” she said, fighting against it.

“I believe you are.”

Jane shook her head, and she was met with a grin as he kissed her one more time.  It was on the forehead this time, to her disappointment.

He stood over her as she rested her head on the wall, caring not for the lack of softness. She would have to make due with her hair for a pillow.  She just wished she could be a little warmer.  She’d been fine before when he was touching her.

“Sleep now, my Jane.  You need it.”

“Then stay with me.”

There was a long silence.

“I will,” he finally said, and Jane let her heavy eyes close and knew no more.

**

“What is going on here?”

Jane shot up, groaning at a wave of pain from the cricks in her neck, pounding at sore bones and rousing almost as well as that voice did.

It came from a doctor, a different one from before, standing at the door next to the switch he’d just flipped on.  Jane covered her eyes from the sting of the light.  She reached around at air for something to grab and found nothing.

“Wha’ happened?” 

She forced herself to look around and get used to the illumination.  Hospital lights were far too severe, and if she ever had to stay in one overnight, she was going to insist that...

Wait.

Jane looked around at her surroundings, at the bed and the monitors and the curtains drawn over all the windows.  The new doctor had gone to talk to a nurse in the hall, who held a large stack of files, the topmost of which the doctor removed from the pile.   They spoke in hushed tones, Loki’s name spoken several times in a context Jane couldn’t understand.  She watched them walk slowly to the waiting room, forgetting all about her there in that empty room.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but here is the final chapter before the climatic finale (and the other two chapters that come after said finale, of course). 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

An hour later, Jane was draped over a heater, staring at her reflection in the window.  Hot air seeped into her skin through a flimsy shirt she hadn’t changed in two days.  She’d been sitting like this since they arrived.  Their hotel room was a small, two bed apartment with ceiling light fixtures, and an enormous mural of flowers covering the walls in place of paintings.  It made for a bright, springy atmosphere that none of the three occupants was feeling. The lights had been dimmed to dull orange, and the wide screen TV left off and ignored. 

Without the light, Jane couldn’t see herself, so she stared at the dark windows of the adjacent building their room afforded them a perfect view of.  To the very far left were the brilliant lights of Times Square, the heart of New York.  Jane used to love it here, the rush of activity that so differed from the small, Southwestern suburb she grew up in.  It didn’t take long for the magic to fade and she realized that she couldn’t see the stars anymore.

For now, she wouldn’t feel sorry for herself.  She’d been doing more than enough of that lately.  Now was the time for action.  

Or it would be if anything at all was happening. 

She didn’t need to look at Thor or Sif to know that action is going to have to wait.  Thor was in a similar state as her last she checked, flat on the bed and staring at the ceiling, muttering to himself words of impotent rage.  It had been that way since she shook him awake at the hospital, and let him know that Loki was gone.  What followed had been like looking at a stranger with a familiar face.  The sheer fury that radiated off of Thor as four orderlies and Sif held him back from beating the poor doctor’s face in was truly astonishing.  Jane had sat back while it happened, waiting for Frigga to rouse Odin so he could get his son under control.  In the interim, she witnessed a side to Thor she never could have imagined he had.  One that made her think Loki wasn’t as out of place in his adopted family as she thought.

Now the storm had passed, and a fragile peace settled over them.  By the time they were driven to the hotel (discreetly in an unmarked car), it felt oddly close to normal.  Like they were just a regular family on a regular vacation under regular circumstances.  Not until they were on their floor and ready to part, when Frigga held Thor and Sif like they meant more to her than life, and then hugged Jane in the exact same way, did the full weight of the situation hit her like a brick to the face.

That was how she ended up sprawled over a barely working heat source that spat dust in her face every three minutes.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket.  Jane had almost forgotten it was there and that she still had some charge left.  The screen was bright as she turned it on to receive her new text message, and the battery icon blinked at half power.

_‘Hey Janie!  Where are you?  I’m bored!  Let’s text! -D’_

Seeing Darcy’s sign off brought a hint of a smile to Jane’s face.  She imagined trying to cram everything that happened tonight- and indeed, the past few months because she should never have kept it a secret in the first place- into a series of one hundred word text messages.  She’d be sitting here all night long, and she wouldn’t even get out half of what she wanted to say.

It was with only a pang of regret that Jane closed out the message and shut off the phone.  Darcy was bound to give her an earful later for ignoring her (damn those pregnancy hormones), but that was a small price to pay for keeping her safe. 

“What time is it?”

It was Thor who had spoken.  He was addressing Sif, who had just stepped out of the bathroom.

“Almost eleven,” she said.  “Whose turn is it to check on them?”

“I can do it if you want,” said Jane.

They both looked at her, uncertainty evident.

“Jane, that might not be wise,” said Thor.

“You guys said it yourselves that Malekith is probably not on our trail yet.”  Jane moved off the heater.  Her steps faltered as a shock of cold hit her now exposed front.  “I need to stretch my legs before bed.  Besides, you two could use some time alone.”

She left the room before either of them could argue.  She stayed close to the wall, her head low over her shoulders until she was confident that she wasn’t being followed.  She stopped in front of Odin and Frigga’s room and knocked twice.  There was silence for a moment, and then a female voice.

“Who’s there?” 

“Room service,” Jane said, as per the code they had all agreed on.  “I have your wine and cheese.”

The door opened a crack, just enough for Jane to slip through.  Odin and Frigga’s room was almost identical to hers, save for the flipped layout so that the bathroom Jane knew to be on the left hand side was now on the right.  Odin was in the easy chair by the television, turned on to a static channel.  His eyes were closed, but Jane got the feeling he wasn’t asleep.

“The white noise calms him,” Frigga explained.  “Try and keep your voice down.  I wouldn’t want to disturb him.”

She led Jane to the window.  It was tightly sealed and had a much better view of the street, though there was still a large and conspicuous brown building taking up half of the space.

“I hope you are comfortable, Ms. Foster,” Frigga said.  She sat at the end of the bed with her hands folded neatly in her lap, like a perfect proper lady.

“Well, the bed much nicer than mine,” Jane said.  “I just came by to check on you guys.”

Frigga shook her head.  “I suppose my son put you up to it.  The silly thing, he always worries far too much.”

“I think he’s just scared,” Jane said, folding her arms.  “We all are.”

“You’d be hard pressed to get Thor to admit to it,” Frigga said sadly.  “Loki was much the same as a boy.  He was always so proud, never wanting to let anyone in.”

“I’m sure you always got in anyway,” Jane murmured.  

“I’m starting to think you have as well.”

Jane closed her eyes.  The older woman’s tone wasn’t harsh or angry.  There was nothing to indicate that she was about to get ripped into, but Jane was in the corporate world, and she knew all too well how deceiving a kind face could be.  

“I don’t know that much, no,” she said.

Frigga smiled now, a real, genuine smile.

“Ms. Foster, I don’t know the nature of your’s and my son’s relationship, and I don’t intend to ask-” she spoke quickly at the end as Jane began to blanch.  “That is between you and Loki, but whatever you are to him, I know that you are someone he trusts.  Someone he feels he can confide in.”

“I never thought about it that way,” Jane said, trailing off as she went back to all their conversations since they first met, looking for any clue or hint that he might have ever left behind that self-important smirk.

“It is the truth regardless,” Frigga said firmly.  “I know, because if he didn’t, he never would have told you a single thing about himself.  Trust me, Jane, he never would have been in your life at all.”

Those were words Jane was turning over in her head long after her and Frigga’s conversation moved on to light, fluffy topics like Jane’s work or her friend who was having a baby (Frigga was very curious about whether it would be a boy or a girl).  Her voice joined with Sif’s, chiming like bells in Jane’s head with all of the things she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

 _‘That’s the burden of a heavy heart,’_ according to Sif.  Whoever said Jane’s heart was aching for Loki?  That sounded like grade school fairy tale stuff.

 _‘You are someone he trusts.  Someone he feels he can confide in,’_ said Frigga.  Well, Jane was certainly paying him enough.

None of it made any sense, anymore than the pounding in her chest when she thought about Loki did, or the warm touch of his lips on hers that put her in a delirious state where she felt like she could fall for him.

She walked back to her room thinking of what could have happened if Loki hadn’t left.  It sent snaps of heat down to her nether regions and rendered her unaware of the large, dark presence behind her until a meaty hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled against an unyielding body.  Whoever held her had terrible breath and shushed her gently as she struggled.  She didn’t register the thick, sweet scent under her nose right away, and by then, everything had long since gone dark.

**

Jane awoke to a leathery surface and a dull, aching pain in the back of her leg.  She tried to take a breath, but found that her mouth and nose were half buried in a car seat cushion.  She only knew it was a car seat because of the bumps in the road that jostled her already aching body, and the roaring of the engine as the car careened around the bend.  

Forcing her head up, Jane inhaled deeply, ignoring the pain in her chin as she put all her weight on it.  Thick smokey mist filled her lungs with agony instead of relief.  She coughed, unable to stop herself.  The car made a sharp turn and Jane was thrown backwards, putting further pressure on her leg that she now saw was bent in an unnatural position against the car door.  Pushed any harder, and she was liable to snap her femur.  Fighting against what remained of the chloroform, Jane wriggled about in the too small back seat of the too small car.  At last, she caught sight of the window, but her heart sunk as she saw a run down street she’d never seen before.

“Better keep your head down, bitch,” said a raspy voice in the driver’s seat.  “Don’t even think about tryin’a call fer help.  No one’ll hear ya, and then I’ll hafta blow yer brains out.  The boss wouldn’t like that.”

“Where the hell are you taking me?” Jane levied a glare in his direction, though she doubted it was very effective through a rear view mirror.  

Her captor appeared to be dressed in a suit jacket, but it was hard to tell anything about him from this angle except that he badly needed a haircut, and some better shampoo.  That thing on his head was a rat’s nest.

In spite of his warnings, Jane continued her efforts.  Her hands were bound behind her back, but her legs were free, and she used them to slide herself onto the floor, where she could lay on her stomach and stretch her sore legs.  The pain left her slowly, and that was one problem solved. 

“Where are you taking me?” she asked again.

“Doesn’t matter ta you,” said the man, and the more he spoke the more he sounded like he was chewing gravel.  “You hafta be brought to the boss’s place out here.  Shame fer you he didn’t pick the house on the bay fer this.  It’s a lot more fancy than this dump, but I don’t think yer gonna care all that much by the time the boss is through with you.”

He puffed out some smoke from a cigarette and dumped the ashes all over the passenger seat.  The windows were rolled up tight, and so the smoke rose into the air and joined the thickening white cloud that stole away what little breath Jane had.  

“You’re talking about Malekith.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Smart girl,” said the man with a chuckle and a cough.  “Hope yer not too smart, though.  Otherwise, he might want to kill you before Loki shows up.”

“What makes you think he’d come just for me?”  Of course, she very much hoped he would come, but that didn’t need to be said.  “I’m a client to him, nothing more.”

“Sorry, sweetie, doesn’t matter,” said the man.  He adjusted the rear view mirror, bringing his bloodshot eyes into view.  “Malekith said to take you, because even though Loki would probably come for his family, he will  _definitely_  come for you.”

He hit the brakes in front of a duplex building with faded green paint and boarded up windows.  The remains of a curtain blew listlessly over a first story window, a thread away from breaking loose and falling into the mud.  The steps were coated in graffiti, most of it gang signs or vulgar language.  Weeds grew out of the concrete, long and untamed.  How this was a place someone as powerful as Malekith would use, Jane couldn’t for the life of her understand.

“Nobody comes around here, girlie,” her captor said, as if reading her thoughts.  “You see a place like this filled with people like us, you know you better stay away.”

He dragged her through the front door.  It issued an ear-splitting whine as it was opened, and the wide room it led into with the high ceiling created an echo.  Jane’s ears were ringing as it clicked shut and she was pulled onward through a room full of old furniture.  Most of it was moth eaten and filthy, but the lack of debris on the carpet made it at least slightly more presentable than the outside.  They moved on without stopping, into another hall with a spiraling staircase.  He led her up two steps at a time.  His legs were a great deal longer than hers, and Jane could barely keep up.  Her face was hot and her heart was pounding by the time he pulled them off onto one of the floors (the tenth by Jane’s count).

“Tired?” he asked, in a mock baby voice.  “Sorry, sweetie.  Elevator’s broken.”

They walked on down a winding hallway, past numerous doors with chipped off numbers.  Most of them were silent, but sometimes, Jane could’ve sworn she heard screaming and banging coming from one of the rooms.  The sounds were too muffled to make out, and Jane knew how prone the mind was to playing tricks on you.

They stopped in front of the last door before the window.  Jane took in the lovely plywood view as her captor banged his fist on it three times, shouting to be let in.  He pounded away on the decaying wood, somehow avoiding punching a hole right through with that meaty hand of his.  When the door did open, he was in mid-strike.  He came very close to getting a very large man in the gut, only to catch himself just in time and drop his arm back to his side.

“Got the girl,” he said, pulling Jane forward

The man at the door looked down his nose at her.  She wanted to say he was scrutinizing her, but really he looked more like a wildcat circling a deer that’s about to become it’s dinner.

Jane knew who he was right away.

“Nice to see you again, bitch,” said Kurse, flashing a toothy grin as his eyes raked over her.  “Think I liked you better in just a robe.”

Jane shuddered, even more so when he snatched her from the other man and carried her over his shoulder to the center of the room.  There he dropped her unceremoniously on a hard wooden chair that had a back but lacked arms.  Pain shot up Jane’s lower half, but she forced back a groan as Kurse approached her with a gun in one hand and heavy rope in the other.

“Tie her up,” he said, throwing the rope to his associate.  The other man immediately set to work, winding the rope around Jane’s arms and chest, securing her to the chair as Kurse surveyed his work.  

At the last minute, he pushed him aside and took the ends of the rope.  He pulled them taut, so tight that Jane gasped as the air was forced from her lungs.  The rope burned into her forearms, worse when she moved, struggling uselessly against the knots.  Cold metal at the side of her head made her stop.  She raised only her eyes to watch Kurse press the gun a little harder into her temple.

“Don’t move,” he growled.  His breath stank like week old food.  “You move, you die.  Don’t think your boyfriend will be happy to find you with your brains all over the wall.”

“Sorry, I’m new to the whole damsel thing,” Jane said dryly.  “I’ll try my best to improve.”

“Oh, you’re a cheeky one.  That’s good.  You’re gonna need your sense of humor.”

He grabbed the back of  the chair, pulling Jane’s messy hair with it.  He yanked up the chair and her scalp.  Try as she might, Jane couldn’t suppress a yelp as Kurse carried her over to a narrow brown door next to the one that led into the hall.  Inside was dark and cramped, a broom closet from the look of it.  Kurse dropped her by the wall, the top legs coming up and taking time to fall to the ground, so that Jane was balanced on the bottom legs for several terrifying seconds.

“Keep your mouth shut until he gets here,” Kurse said, gun still pointed at her.  “Until then, I don’t wanna hear a peep outta you.”

 _‘Why didn’t you just gag me?’_ Jane thought as the door slammed shut and she was left in pitch blackness.

As one sense was lost to her, the others sharpened.  Jane could hear Kurse move away from the door and talk to the man who had brought her.  Their words were strange to Jane’s ears, perhaps spoken in another language.  Whatever Kurse was saying, it was quick and harsh, and the other man’s stammered whenever it was his turn to speak.  A part of Jane would not have been surprised if the last thing she heard was a bang.

The voices only stopped after Kurse’s guttural drawl moved away from the closet, and he switched to clear English.

“Make sure the bitch doesn’t make too much noise until he gets here.  I’ll be in the back.  Don’t bother me unless Loki’s here, or you’re walking out of here with a bullet in your leg.”

Heavy footfalls moved around the room.  Jane’s heart nearly stopped as Kurse came an inch away from the door, and then he was gone again.  Another door slammed shut, and the beleaguered henchmen alone remained.  He ground out a few choice words for Kurse and then was silent. There was not another sound save for the wind against the window.  Jane’s world was now as quiet as it was dark.  

She wiggled back and forth, testing the strength of her bonds. The rope burned into her wrists and ankles, unrelenting against all of her efforts to loosen it.  The knot was just out of reach, and likely too tight to be pulled out anyway.  There had once been a special report on the news about what to do in the event of being kidnapped and restrained.  Jane had left it on while she made dinner, waiting for a movie to come on after.  She had only half-listened to the advice from the expert correspondent.  It had been irrelevant to her then, only an obstacle in the way of curling up on the couch with a bowl of soup in her lap and Moonstruck on TV.

Oh, what had he said about being tied up?  Jane was sure there had been a segment on that particular topic.  Something about puffing out one’s chest when they’re being tied so that the ropes were loosened when they relaxed?  It was a little late in the game for that.

Something shiny caught Jane’s attention, flashing in the corner of her eye so briefly that it might have been an illusion.  The dying light bulb hanging a foot from the ceiling was her only source of light, but it was enough for Jane to spot the bits of broken mirror littering the many shelves.  It looked like this closet had last been restocked sometime in the fifties.  In that time, the little bit of cleaning supplies and equipment had eroded away so completely that they could barely be distinguished from one another.  The glass was just about the only thing Jane could pick out with relative ease. 

 _‘It always works in the movies,’_ she told herself.

 That alone was motivation enough to push with all her strength onto her unbound feet and shuffle slowly and softly backwards into the wall. She moved her wrists.  Only one was out enough that she could move it side to side and hopefully grab onto a larger shard of mirror without slicing her skin to ribbons.  Over her shoulder, Jane could see one long and jagged piece that stuck out from the rest.  She felt around for it, careful to avoid sharp edges.  Somehow, her fingers found the shard without a drop of blood split.  Now came the hard part.

Jane swallowed back bile and adjusted her grip on the glass.  She hissed in pain as her palm rubbed against it and the exact wrong angle.  She could feel the trickle of blood running down her wrist, and the stinging persisted as she held it to the top layer of rope and got to work.

She was almost halfway through the second layer when she heard footsteps closing in.  At first, she feared the return of Kurse, that he’d decided to disobey his own orders and have some ‘fun’ with her the way all those same movies said a kidnapper would to their female captives.  

But when she finally heard the creaking of rusty hinges, so sharp in their whine that Jane swore her ears would bleed, it was not the closet door that was opened, and it was not she who greeted a visitor in a voice full of malice and glee.

“Looks like ya made it, little bitch boy,” said her captor with a watery laugh.  She didn’t know what it was for.  He hadn’t said anything all that funny.

By now, she had just enough room to wriggle her arm free up to the elbow.  The ropes burned into her skin, creating a painful sting in her already injured and bloody palm as she worked it free of the loops.

“Not good to keep the boss waiting like this.  He up an’ left an hour ago lookin fer ya.”

Whoever had arrived, he had yet to speak.  Jane had all but her hand out as two sets of feet circled one another.

“Guess it doesn’t matter. Just means Kurse will hafta deal wit ya himself.  By the way, we’ve got a little surprise for y-“

Someone moved, likely the newcomer.  The other man grunted as he was presumably pushed off his feet.  The resulting thud shook the floor.  Jane’s hand was all the way out and she took a second to assess the damage.  It wasn’t that bad all things considered; a pair of inch long slits in two places on her palm that leaked blood at a substantial, yet not alarming pace.  With her teeth, Jane pulled her sleeve over her hand to stop the bleeding.  With one arm out, her bonds were loose enough that she could pull them off over her head.  The banging and struggling had yet to stop; strangled screams growing louder and then softer in the time it took Jane to throw off the ropes and press her face against the closet door with one hand on the knob.

There was one final thud, heavier than the first, and then nothing.  It was not total silence, as when Jane listened closely, she caught the faint sound of labored breathing.  Measured steps moved away from her, towards the back of the room where Kurse sat in wait.  

Mustering up what remained of her courage, Jane opened the door wide enough to allow in a sliver of light. She stuck her head out, only to pull it right back in and clamp one hand over her mouth to silence a scream.  Her teeth sunk into tender flesh and she had to pull away before she broke the skin.  Air came to her with great difficulty.  It took several deep breaths to get anywhere remotely close to calm and open the door again.  She stepped into the room, back pressed against the wall and eyes closed, so that she wouldn’t have to see the bloated face of the corpse on the ground, or the length of heavy rope hanging loose around his neck.

The killer had his back to her, but the white dress shirt and well-groomed black hair was unmistakable. Jane thought of calling out to him. She thought about turning around and running out of this place as fast as she could.  She thought about grabbing him and hugging him and then pulling him along as she ran out of this place as fast as she could.  

Before she could do more than scurry into the shadows, the hulking form of Kurse appeared from the darkness.  He didn’t look like he’d been relaxing at all.  His whole body was tense, ready for a fight Jane had no doubt would come.

“So,” he said, glaring straight into Loki’s eyes from their nearly equal height, “you showed your face after all.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Loki’s silky tones betrayed a layer of darkness that Jane was starting to realize had always been there. Only now she knew how to find it.

“Malekith thought you might run,” Kurse said.  “Not gonna lie, I’m glad he was wrong.”

“Oh?” Loki took another step forward.

“Yeah… turns out you’re not the sniveling pussy I thought you’d be.”  

The two men’s faces were barely an inch apart, close enough that an objective observer would think they were about to kiss.  From Jane’s point of view, it looked more like Kurse was attempting to cow Loki. He was by far the bigger and the bulkier of the two, with arms roughly the size of Jane’s head and hands that looked like they could squeeze a human head into jelly with little effort. Still, Loki stood tall and not intimidated.  He met Kurse’s gaze and matched the hatred that burned in the other man’s eyes perfectly.

“I understand Malekith is looking for me,” he said.

“That what the idiot over there told you?”  Kurse cast a cold glance at the body of the henchman Loki killed.

 _‘That’s right,’_  said a little voice inside Jane’s head that made her blood run cold.   _‘Loki killed that man.  Loki killed him.’_

But she shook her head and set aside that little detail for later.  It didn’t matter to her nearly as much as it should have.  There were so many things already that would never be the same again.  What was one more?

“Forgive me if I am mistaken,” Loki said, carefully, “but if I am, then I’ll have to assume that Malekith is here, and too cowardly to face me.”

Kurse’s roaring laughter filled the room.

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”  He grabbed Loki by the scruff of his shirt, and for the second time in barely an hour, Jane had to hold back a scream.  “You want to think you’re really that important to him, don’t you, you scrawny little fuck!”

“If I’m not,” Loki hissed, “why go to all this trouble for me?  Why send those men to kill me at all?  Or does Malekith know how outmatched he’d be if he faced me himself?”

With a growl, Kurse reared his arm back and released.  Loki went flying across the room, landing hard on his back mere inches from where Jane hid.  He gasped, clutching his stomach over the healing gunshot wounds.  It took all that Jane had not to rush out to him. Kurse stomped after him, and Jane hurried back into the corner as far as she could go.  She watched as Loki was grabbed around his neck and held in the air.  His feet dangled, no small feat considering how tall he was.

“Malekith has no time to waste with trash like you,” Kurse said, all but spitting in Loki’s face.  “I told him a long time ago we should’ve just killed you on the first day and been done with it.  You’re more trouble than you’re worth and you always have been.  Not good for anything but that pretty mouth of yours.”

He slammed Loki up against the far wall, eliciting a groan from him as red beads of blood seeped into his shirt from the bullet wounds.  His one hand held them through the cloth, his other pulling futilely at Kurse’s fingers.  Just a few feet away, tears stung hot in Jane’s eyes as she sunk on weak knees to the ground. Never before had she felt so helpless, so useless.  There wasn’t anything in the dark that she could use as a weapon.  The shard of glass she had left in the closet called out to her, but to move now on these creaking floorboards could only be a death sentence for them both.  She was literally backed into the corner with no way out.  Whenever she tried to close her eyes and not look, she’d hear a gasp or a wheeze, and she’d have to open them again.

“But you know,” Kurse said, slowly and deliberately, “if there’s one thing I could say for you… it’s that you have very good taste in women.”

The air around Loki shifted. It was a quick, subtle change Jane wouldn’t have noticed had she not seen Loki’s face.  Gone was fear bubbling just below the surface, hidden from his adversary as well as Loki could manage with a half crushed windpipe.  The pure loathing that had mixed and mingled with it remained, joined now by a more powerful rage than Jane had ever thought possible.  There was a low hum that came from somewhere in the room, but Jane couldn’t put her finger on its origin until Loki unleashed a feral growl, and his knee flew up into Kurse’s groin.  

The impact had Kurse doubling over in pain.  He dropped Loki, who landed with catlike grace on his feet and followed the attack with a swift uppercut to Kurse’s face.  The man was dead weight, falling to the ground in a heap, shaking the building’s foundation and nearly making Jane lose her footing.  He moaned and rolled over on his side, all posture and intimidation melting away as he curled into a ball and Loki stood over him.  He cast a long shadow.  It had never occurred to Jane before just how very, very tall he was.

“All right, Kurse,” he snarled, and he withdrew a knife from somewhere Jane couldn’t see, the long, jagged blade gleaming in the pale moonlight.   Loki pushed Kurse down with his foot, and his smile put Kurse’s monstrous grins to shame.   “You have no idea how long I have waited to do this.”

Jane covered her eyes as his arm descended, but she couldn’t protect her ears from the whoosh of the blade or the air leaving Kurse’s throat.  When it happened again, she hid her face between her knees.  Loki’s knife came down on Kurse so many times that Jane couldn’t even try to count.  It scraped the bone, sliced into flesh, threw blood in all directions, and all the while, Loki grunted and growled and spoke in tones so deep and harsh that Jane could only assume he’d been demon possessed.

“Come on, Kurse, don’t cry,” he stabbed him again.  Again and again and again.  “Don’t cry.  Come on, you little bitch.  TAKE IT LIKE A MAN!”

Those words, screamed where everything else had been hissed, made Jane look up against her better judgement.  She stared at Loki, there with his hands wrist deep in blood and murder in his eyes.  She had never heard such language pass his lips.  He always seemed too classy for it, too refined, but as the thrust of his blade became more erratic, and she caught the shine of moisture dripping down his cheeks, Jane wondered if perhaps there was more happening here than simple self defense.  

With one final swing of the blade, Kurse’s body lay still.  The hilt of the knife jutted out of his barrel chest, life blood gushing from his many wounds.  With shoulders shaking and a heaving stomach, Loki climbed off the body, leaving his weapon behind as he fell onto the nearest couch, missing a popped spring by an inch.  He brought one hand—thankfully the clean one—over his face and ran it down to his mouth, covering it as if trying to block out the stench of death.

As he rested, so did Jane.  Her head hit the wall as she felt a chill on her behind from the damp floorboards.  The moon had changed positions, sinking low as night waned into morning.  Now the moonlight spread over Kurse’s cooling corpse, the whites of his lifeless eyes turned upward in Jane’s direction.  His final look of shock and fear was etched eternally on that face.

Jane couldn’t help it.  She sobbed.

Suddenly, Loki was on high alert.  He sprang off the couch, ripped the knife from Kurse’s heart, stalked to the corner where Jane hid herself away and paused, eyes comically wide as he spotted her.

_“Jane?”_

And Jane didn’t think about the blood all over him, or the people he had just killed while she watched and listened.  She didn’t think about running away; the time for that had long since passed. All she cared about was Loki in front of her, and how good his body felt against hers as she wrapped herself around him.  

“Jane, what-“

But Jane shook her head that was burrowed into his chest.  She wasn’t ready to talk yet.  They’d be having a very long discussion later, but for now, she just needed him to hold her and comfort her and hopefully not make any sarcastic comments about it.

“I- I was kidnapped,” she explained after a time.  “They took me… because they said you would come for me, but you didn’t even know I was here, did you?”

“I wish I had.  I might’ve been…” he glanced around at the carnage, and the dripping red stains on his clothes and upper arms, looking almost embarrassed for just a moment, “…cleaner, had I known.”

Jane laughed, though there was nothing particularly funny about this. Reluctantly, she let Loki pull away from her and grab his knife off the couch.  The blade was caked in red, and not even running it over the last clean patch of his shirt could remove all the gore.  Jane turned away.  She had always had a very strong stomach, rolling her eyes at bloody horror movies while Darcy retched in the garbage can, but this was on a whole other level than a silly slasher flick.   These were real—albeit probably very bad—people, dead at her feet while their killer dried her tears.  

“I suppose this explains all the phone calls I was getting on my way over,” Loki said with a tiny smile, “I thought Malekith’s lackeys were just trying to frighten me off.  I’ll have to answer my phone next time.”

“You think we could talk about this somewhere else?” Jane asked, stepping over a splash of blood and one of Kurse’s twitching wrists.  “I don’t really want to stay here any longer.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Loki said.  

Hand in hand, the pair exited into the hall and down the stairs. At certain points, Jane could see dark heaps on the floor in doorways and corners.  It was too dark to see what they were from far away, but as Loki took to pressing her face into his side every time one got close, Jane could guess what they were and why he didn’t want her to see.  

“You’ve painted quite the target on your back, my Jane,” Loki said at the bottom step.  The front door and sweet freedom were in sight, and Jane could feel the icy Manhattan air on her face already.  She had never loved it quite so much.  

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” she quipped, but when she looked up, Loki was no longer smiling.  He started to pull away, but Jane held on to him.  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He sighed.  “I wonder if you should.  I’m made a terrible mess of your life, and after that display, I’d be surprised if you can ever look at me the same again.”

She wished she could say he was wrong, but she’d never been a very good liar.  

She was a pretty decent deflector, though.

“Hey, my life was nothing but boring doldrums before you came along,” she said, and already, she could see that little spark of mischief setting his eyes alight.

“Yes, you did seem to lead a very dull existence when we first met.”

And he was being an asshole again.  This was progress.

“I’m just waiting to hear that I owe you another fifty dollars for saving me or something.”

“Actually, my standard fee for a rescue from certain death is seventy five, but I might be willing to give you a discount since it’s you.”

He opened the front door, and then pulled Jane into his arms in a purely protective fashion as a cacophony of red and blue lights that greeted them.  Jane shielded her eyes.  After so much darkness for so long, the light was like a bullet to the head.  The sirens only made it worse, and Jane could barely hear her name being called, until a huge shadow descended over them.

“Jane.  Jane!   _Loki!_ ”

Thor ran to them, jumping over police barricades and ignoring the protests of the gathered officers.  There had to be at least fifty of them in twenty cars with strobe lights and a helicopter flying overhead.  How she hadn’t heard them before, Jane would never know.

“Thor!” she shouted.  She broke away from Loki, gladly accepting Thor and then Sif when she caught up in her arms.  The three way hug warmed Jane at the front, but her back remained chilly, reminding her that there should be one more person here with them.  

“Thank goodness you’re all right,” Thor said.  “When you didn’t come back, we suspected the worst.”

“But how did you know I was here?”

Sif smiled at her.  “It appears Malekith doesn’t much pride brains in his henchmen.  The fools didn’t even think to take your cell phone.”

“I’m so sorry we didn’t get here faster,” Thor said.  “Once again, Malekith left behind some friends of his for us to deal with.”

Jane stared at him, and he stared back.  For a second time, she felt like laughing at nothing.

“God, what a week it’s been,” she said, shoulders sagging.

“Certainly the most eventful in recent memory,” said Sif.

Thor had yet to say a word since his apology.  He was looking over Jane’s head now, seeming to forget that she was there.  He moved around her, walking towards his brother where he stood at the top of the steps.  He didn’t seem to care about the blood or whose it could be, but then, it wasn’t every day one reunited with a long lost loved one.  

Loki shied away from Thor’s approaching form.  He looked to Jane, a silent plea for help that was oddly adorable on him.  Now there was a word Jane never thought she would ever use to describe Loki.

She nodded, her smile encouraging as she motioned for him to come forward.  ‘It’s okay,’ she wanted to say.  ‘Talk to him.’

Loki swallowed.  His distress was evident, but he didn’t move to stop him when Thor reached out and enveloped him in his massive arms, nor did he react with more than a gentle pat on the back as Thor dissolved into hysterical tears.  Together, they fell to their knees, and Jane heard a new cry from a feminine source.  

Odin and Frigga, holding each other close, stood among the police who were busy clearing the area of spectators.  That they hadn’t rushed to their sons yet could only be to grant them a moment of privacy, as much as they could possibly have on a New York street surrounded by a crowd.  As Jane watched them, Frigga met her eye for a brief time, just long enough to mouth ‘thank you.’  

The gunshots came seconds later.

Somebody screamed; it may have been Jane herself.  She was on the ground before she knew what had happened, and she recognized the body covering hers.  For the second time, Loki had shielded her; put his life on the line to protect her.  

The police raced to return fire and get the family to safety.  Loki got Jane to her feet and ran with her away from the chaos.  Behind them, Thor and Sif assisted in subduing the closest shooters, and their efforts combined with those of New York’s Finest seemed to have the situation well under control.  

A large black van sprung around the corner in front of her and Loki. They skidded to a halt.  

“Jane, RUN!” Loki shouted.

But it was too late.

Two pairs of hands had Jane around the waist.  She was thrown like a rag doll into the back of the van, where she watched as five more men struggled with Loki.  He fought them viciously, striking one across the face with a well placed backhand and throwing another that tried to get him from behind.  They piled on top of him, dragging him to the ground.  Jane felt one of the hands grab the back of her head.  She was pulled back by the hair as they worked Loki feet first into the van.  Then the door slid shut, plunging them into darkness.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Jane didn’t know for how long they were driving, or how far out of the city they were.  As she clung to Loki’s shirt in a desperate attempt to siphon heat off body heat, all she knew for sure was how much trouble they were in, and that they had to be on an unpaved road somewhere.  Otherwise, she couldn’t account for the constant bumps under the tires.

They passed another one while making a turn, and the combined force of the sharp swerve and running over something had Jane falling into Loki’s arms.  Her face was pressed into his neck, which reeked of an unholy combination of fresh cologne and drying blood.  If she tried to lift her head, he pushed her back down.  He seemed almost afraid to let her get more than an inch away, as if letting her go meant allowing the darkness to swallow her up.  One hand rested on her head, providing warmth as the engine roared overhead.

She thought of her cell phone, a light bulb going off in her head that should’ve been lit ages ago.  She wiggled her way out of Loki’s grasp to reach for it, only to sag against him once again when she tapped the screen and wasn’t instantly blinded by LED light.  Tapping it a few more times achieved nothing but making her thumb ache.

Rule number two: always charge your phone before you leave the house.

“Damn it!”  Jane threw it in frustration, regretting the decision as it bounced off the wall and disappeared from sight.  “The one time I forget!”

Loki embraced her, and Jane didn’t resist.  She would freely admit she felt better this way, with him holding her though he had no words of comfort to offer.  His presence alone was a boon on the current situation that the last time she was forced into a car sorely lacked.  That there was space in here to move around also helped.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Jane asked.

“To see Malekith most likely,” he said gravely.  “That’s what this whole mess has been about.  One final meeting between the two of us.”

“He’s sure going to a lot of trouble for it,” Jane said.  “Was an email not good enough?”

He laughed softly, and in spite of herself, a hint of a smile brushed passed Jane’s lips.

“What’s he going to do to us?”

A beat passed.

“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”  Jane said.  “Problem is, if I don’t ask, I’m going to keep thinking about it.  I don’t think the reality could be any scarier than what my imagination is cooking up.”

His hand on her head ran down the length of her hair, fingers undoing knots and tangles so gently that Jane barely felt it.  A sigh buzzed in his chest.

“When we get there, Malekith will most likely challenge me to a duel.  If he wins, and he will most assuredly take whatever precautions necessary to ensure that he does, he will put a bullet in my head, make you watch, then put another one in your head.  Unless he’s feeling particularly vicious, in which case the order will be reversed.”

“Oh,” Jane said, shivering as all the blood in her body turned to ice.  “I was wrong.  Reality is worse.”

They hit another bump.  The shock knocked Loki off his behind and as he fell, he took Jane with him.  She landed heavily on his chest, knocking the wind out of him.  He sat up to regain his breath, letting go of Jane in the interim.  She stayed close, ready to bang on his back or rub his stomach or whatever he needed her to do.

He pulled out a tiny flashlight (when the hell did he get that?) and checked the bullet wounds first.  They were no longer bleeding through the gauze, but the whole bandage was soaked in blood and dirt.  Jane was no doctor, but she knew enough to know that thing was an infection waiting to happen.  It came easily when she pulled it off, a few droplets of red blood leaking out the exposed holes.  Loki hissed and put a hand over them.

“Was that really a good idea?”

Jane looked at the soiled bandage, then back at his injured stomach, and wondered if this hadn’t been well thought out..  

“Can’t be any worse than keeping it on,” she asserted.  “Let’s try something else.”

Jane took the light from him and shined it at herself.  Her jacket was covered in dirt and sawdust, but her white t-shirt looked clean enough.  She shed both- no point in modesty now- and ripped a long, thick strip off the bottom of her shirt.  She looped it around Loki’s narrow waist and tied a firm yet non-constricting knot to hold it in place.

“There,” she said, admiring her handiwork.  “It’s not perfect, but it’ll do for now.”

Loki fingered the makeshift bandage.  “That isn’t bad.  You must have been a nurse in another life.”

“Yeah, but not this life,” Jane said.  She shrugged her jacket back on, kicking aside the useless remains of her shirt as she zipped her coat all the way up.

“Feel free to leave it off if that suits you better.”

“It doesn’t,” Jane deadpanned, “but I’m glad to see you still have your sense of humor.”

“Oh, it will take more than one little kidnapping to rob me of that.”

He chuckled somewhere in the dark.  Jane couldn’t see where as she’d turned off the flashlight to preserve the battery.  It might’ve been her imagination, but the light seemed a little bit dimmer now than it was twenty seconds ago.  They still hadn’t reached whatever destination they were headed for.  For all Jane knew, it could be hours before the van stopped and whoever had dragged them into this came to drag them back out.  

There hadn’t been another turn or bump in a while, but experience told Jane one could happen at any time.  With that in mind, she felt around for the wall, shuffling on her hands and knees from one side to the other.  If it took too long, she’d use the flashlight.  Her hand in the air met something solid, but it was too soft and warm to be what she was looking for.

She found herself back in Loki’s arms, pulled to his chest, still bare as he had yet to button his shirt back up.  The heat in Jane’s cheeks flared up.  The last time they had been like this, they’d been at her place, in her bed, and much more naked.  Some hysterical part of Jane’s mind thought that if they made it out of this alive, she’d be happy enough to make it happen again.  She’d give him all of her life savings if she had to, if only he would stay with her and hold her like this forever.  If he could just make this nightmare go away.

“If you’re reconsidering my impact on your life,” he started, and even without light Jane knew he was watching her, ‘I wouldn’t blame you.  This is a terrible mess we’re both in.”

“I’m not mad, if that’s what you mean,” Jane said.  She dug her fingers gently into his shoulder for leverage.  “None of this is your fault.”

“I appreciate your faith in me,” he said, “but I’m afraid I am not as innocent as you would like to believe.”

“You’re saying you wanted us to be kidnapped and taken away to certain death?”

“Not us, no,” he said.  “I had wanted to do this alone.  I never expected anyone else would be dragged into my business, especially not someone I-”

He stopped abruptly, the unspoken words hovering in the air over their heads, keeping him still and her gobsmacked.  There were several different ways he could have finished that sentence.  Any one of them had the potential to change things in ways Jane wasn’t sure she was ready to change.  

There was a lot Jane didn’t know about Loki.  If she was honest with herself, she barely knew him at all.  Hell, before two days ago, she hadn’t even known his real name.  She didn’t know if she could trust anything he said.  There was just something about him, be it his words or his mannerisms or both, that told her this wasn’t something he did everyday, if he ever did it at all.  Even if he couldn’t get the words out, his meaning was as clear as if he had.

The world seemed to slow down, as the two of them sat in silence.  Jane’s hand found Loki’s and squeezed.  It was to her great relief and satisfaction that he squeezed back.  As the seconds dragged on, Jane realized just how much slower they really were going.

The van was stopping.

Jane fumbled for the flashlight.  Briefly illuminated, Loki’s face was a dark shade.  

“It’s time,” he said.

The door was opened before Jane could speak.  Two shadows blocked a bright burst of light from the rising sun.  What little seeped in from the sides blinded Jane long enough for one of them to grab her by the wrist and pull her violently out.  

“Get movin’, bitch.”

Jane was thrown out onto a dirt road, keeping her balance by a fraction of an inch.  Any more and she would have landed most ungracefully on her face.  Loki was right behind her, walking on his own with another thug on his tail.  He glared daggers at the one handling Jane, gritting his teeth as Jane was pushed to her knees and held in place by a boot.

“You’d best stay down there,” the thug said.  “Wouldn’t want to get a bullet in your pretty head just yet.”

He pushed until her face was in the dirt.  Jane inhaled some granules of sand and choked, falling to her side as she coughed it all up.  She thought she heard Loki grunt, perhaps as he was pulled away from her.  Sitting back up, Jane looked around at the expanse of sand and the row of trees opposite a cliff side.  Waves crashed far below them, but there wasn’t a building in sight.  Not even a seaside shack.

“Where are we?” she asked, knowing that neither of the men at her and Loki’s backs were bound to answer.  That would come from another source.

“A special place, Ms. Foster, a very special place indeed.”

The speaker appeared with a gust of wind, from a point Jane couldn’t determine.  He seemed to have simply blinked into existence, there in an instant, when before the spot where he stood had been empty.  He was as immaculately dressed as he was the firs time Jane saw him, however long ago and briefly it had been.  His hair was loose over his shoulders, covering all of his ears save for the pointed ends that poked out parallel to his temples.  His goblin face looked all the more creepy with a serene smile in place, as he stood up straight and stiff as a board.  As they were prodded in the back and forced to move closer, Malekith’s clasped hands remained behind his back, and he neither blinked nor breathed until the bigger thug planted his foot on the small of Loki’s back and pushed.  With Loki on his knees at Malekith’s feet, that smile widened, and turned sinister.

“Of course, you know why it’s so special, don’t you, Loki?”

He placed a hand on Loki’s lowered head.  Loki did nothing to stop it, but Jane could see his hands clench into fists.

“Yes, I believe you do,” Malekith’s fingers dug into Loki’s skull.  He wrenched him up by the hair, and Jane squeaked as Loki let out a groan.  “Yes... your poor old man met his bitter end here, right on this spot.  On a day very much like this one.”  

He let go, pushing Loki off to the side.  Malekith walked towards the cliff, stopping just short of the ledge.

“I remember Laufey demanding that I come here and meet him, knowing that I’d been caught in a bind there was no way out of.  I had been engaging in some...  _under-_  under the table dealings, let’s say.  Getting my hands wet in other ventures, spreading my influence.  Laufey was a man of great stature and strength, but he was blind to one thing: his own mortality.”  Malekith laughed deep in his chest.  “He really believed he could keep me under his thumb.  He had no idea what he was dealing with, and that was his undoing in the end.  He never thought that his little tradition of having a drink before an execution could come back to bite him, but look who’s alive and well now, and look who’s dead.”

He snapped his fingers.  The one thug grabbed Loki and pulled him to his feet.  At full height, Loki was a head taller than him, but the man had forearms the size of Jane’s head, and he held on so tight to Loki’s back that it looked like he could break his spine with a flick of the wrist.  The one holding Jane, while not quite as scary, was unforgiving in his grip.  When she tried to break free and reach Loki, he pulled her back with a sneer and held her so tight that she could already see bruises forming.  

“But just imagine my surprise when, twenty five years later, the spitting image of Laufey and his whore of a wife shows up at my doorstep, offering himself up in exchange for his adopted family’s lives.  I have to say, Loki, you presented me with quite a poser.  I could’ve taken the revenge I’d waited years to enact, or I could have really hit it where it hurt and taken one of Odin’s precious boys for my own; make him lick the dirt off my shoes while Odin suffered the loss of him.”

“It really wasn’t a choice at all, was it?”  Loki asked.

“No, it wasn’t.”  Malekith walked back, taking Loki’s face in his clammy white hands.  Fingernails scratched Loki’s chin, while he clamped his mouth shut as if fighting not to vomit.  “And you were a wonderful lapdog those first few years.  I’d even go so far as saying you were the best man working for me.  Whatever job I gave you, you carried it out to perfection, without a single comment or compliant.  A good, obedient dog, weren’t you?”

He tapped Loki’s chin, lifting his head a little higher. His silence grated on Malekith’s nerves, and with a snarl, he pulled a gun from his jacket and shoved it into Loki’s temple.

“I said, ‘weren’t you?’”

He cocked the gun.  Jane bit down on her lip so not to scream, so hard that her eyes teared up.  Loki just sighed.

“I’m sorry, Malekith, but I feel we are beyond the master-slave part of our relationship.  We are here so you can kill me, are we not?”

“I could decide to kill you quicker, and not give you the chance to fight.  Just remember that every second you’re still breathing, your girlfriend is still breathing.  Because as soon as there is nothing left of you, I’m starting on her.”

He aimed the gun at Jane to make his point, leaving it trained on her with his finger on the trigger for several seconds.  Every single one of them felt like a lifetime to Jane.  Her chest constricted, refusing to take in air until he pulled away.  

Even then, Jane couldn’t breathe easy.  Malekith walked forward, gun still drawn, almost running into Loki.  The barrel now rested soft against his chest, over his heart.  The two men were almost equal in height, with Malekith falling just short of meeting Loki.  From his pocket, he withdraw a second gun, almost identical to the one aimed to kill.

“So what’s it going to be, Mr.  _Laufeyson_?”  Malekith grinned.  “Are you going to stay and avenge your poor father or run like the dog you are?”

He shoved the gun into Loki’s chest, above the bullet holes.  For all Jane knew, this was the exact make- hell, the exact weapon- that gave him those scars.  Loki’s head slowly fell.  He stared for the longest time at the gun before his hands inched up from his sides and he took it.  Running his fingers across the barrel and down the chamber, Loki took his time closing them over the weapon.  When he did, he opened the chamber first, mouthing numbers under his breath.

“It’s full,” he muttered, flicking it closed.  “And here I thought you would leave me empty handed.”

“I would never give an opponent an unloaded gun, if that’s what you mean,” Malekith said, as if the very idea mortally offended him.  “Especially not you.  No, you’re far too special.  I want this to be a fair fight between us.”

“Forgive me if I’m not reassured,” Loki said.  “Fair for you has always been arbitrary.”

“And it isn’t for you?”

“There’s a difference.  You are the one in control of the proceedings tonight.”  Loki took a step closer.  “You’ve proven it by bringing us here, all alone without any back up.  And you’ve already placed me at a disadvantage by given me a gun that’s three bullets short.”

Malekith furrowed his brow.  “What do you mean by that?”

Loki cocked the gun and aimed it... at the man behind him holding Jane.  His hands slid from her body as the bullet ripped through him.  A cry rose from his partner’s throat, cut off in an instant by the next crack of the gun.  He fell faster, with more blood spraying from the wound in his throat.  Jane fell backwards and rolled to avoid getting splashed, biting her tongue so hard that she was bound to bleed herself.  Loki spun back around to shoot over Malekith’s head, far into the trees.  A cry preceded a black clad body falling to the ground, a sniper rifle hitting the ground right after.  Loki lowered the smoking gun, smiling serenely in Malekith’s face.

“Like I said, three bullets short.”

Malekith aimed between Loki’s eyes.  Though his face betrayed nothing, the rage in his eyes was palpable, and almost as consuming as what lurked behind the cool mask that was Loki’s face.  His gun stayed low at his side, his finger loose on the trigger.  Drops of blood had spattered on the back of his shirt, and Jane’s eyes traced the lines between them.  The bandage she had made seemed to be holding, but for how much longer?

And what if he got shot again?

What if they really didn’t survive this?

Somehow, Jane didn’t think another miracle in the form of Thor and an army of police officers would be coming.

“I’ve underestimated you,” Malekith said.

“I believe you won’t make the same mistake twice,” said Loki.

“There will be no time to.”  Malekith walked backwards, eyes on Loki like there was nothing else in the world but him.  He never lowered the gun.  “Shall we make a duel of it?”

“Doing this the proper way now, are we?”

Malekith grinned.  “It has been so from the start.”

“Oh?”  Loki nodded in the fallen sniper’s direction.  Jane almost looked at the two corpses at her feet, but stopped herself.

“A little insurance,” Malekith said.  “A mere precaution, let’s say.  Not like it was worth the trouble in the end, as you have so definitively proven.”

He had put a fair amount of distance between himself and Loki.  Though he talked of a proper duel, Jane was pretty sure those were supposed to start with the two combatants back to back.  She scanned the many trees and the boulders perched at the end of the cliff side, for even a hint of shadow or the gleam of a weapon.  What other tricks could Malekith have up his sleeve, she wondered.  And if she found anything that Loki hadn’t, how would she tell him?

Malekith’s eyes were suddenly on her.  That gold was a terrible color.

“Look close now, my dear girl,” he said.  “Watch your lover die the ignoble death he has always deserved.”

“I’ll thank you not to ink the certificate just yet,” Loki said.  Aside from the dripping sarcasm, he had lost his humorous tone.  “And I’ll thank you even more not to speak to Jane ever again.”

Malekith’s eyebrows disappeared into his wispy hairline.

“My my, you really are attached to this one,” he said.  “Didn’t I tell you from the start how dangerous that was?  You never get involved with the clients.  That is asking for trouble.  Just look at where we are right now.  Do you think you would be here, so close to the end of your life, were it not for her?”

“Oh, this day was always coming.”  Loki gripped the gun tighter and raised it.  “All she did was speed things along.  And I believe I told you not to speak to her again.”

“And speaking  _of_ her is also out of the question?”

“Why don’t we get started, and then you will see.”

The next minute or so saw a standoff more intense than Hollywood could ever hope to emulate.  A light wind blew and played with the two men’s hair.  A colony of seagulls cried out in the air.  The waves down below crashed onto shore.  Every sound was as loud as a gunshot to Jane.  If any more bullets flew, she might not have known the difference.

The seconds snailed by, as neither of them made a move.  Jane found herself counting them.

One... two... three... four...

Malekith’s finger pressed on the trigger.

Thirty six... thirty seven... thirty eight...

Loki lifted his chin to the sky, staring down at Malekith over his brow.

Fifty nine... sixty... sixty one... sixty two...

Malekith took a step.

Eighty four... Eighty five...

Loki took a step.

Ninety seven... ninety eight... ninety nine...

Malekith’s arm snapped away from Loki to Jane and he fired.  The bark over Jane’s head exploded and she screamed.  

Loki charged.  

Guns forgotten, he threw a punch that sent Malekith flying.  The force was so great that Loki pitched forward after him, and as Jane crawled away from the splintered bits of wood, the two of them rolled around in the dirt, trying to land as many hits on the other as they could.

Jane would’ve liked to believe that in a straight hand to hand fight, Loki would dominate.  Malekith was stronger than he looked, though.  For every hit Loki landed that drew blood, Malekith responded with fists to the face that would leave bruises later.  Malekith’s arm shot out over his head, inching for the gun he had lost.  It was just out of reach, but the tips of his fingers grazed the bottom edge.  Jane watched for all of a moment, and then her whole body went into overdrive.

She ran for the gun, jumping over the bodies as she went.  She would never know what to do with a weapon and couldn’t think straight long enough to try anyway.  Rearing back a leg, Jane kicked the gun away from Malekith.  It flew over the cliff and out of sight.  As an added bonus, the toe of Jane’s sneaker had slammed into Malekith’s hand.  He hissed in pain, distracted long enough to give Loki the upper hand.  His hands wrapped around Malekith’s neck.  He squeezed until his enemy gagged.

“I hope you enjoy this, Malekith,” he spat.  “I know I will.  It will be so much more satisfying than what I did to Kurse.”

Malekith’s face was turning blue.  His legs kicked out wildly.  He reached for Loki’s face and scratched at his cheeks.  All to no avail.

When his body went still and his grunts fell silent, Loki waited for a time to make sure he was really dead.  Though he was eventually satisfied, Jane wasn’t so sure.  She stayed on guard, the fallen tree branch she had grabbed as a weapon clutched to her chest.  Loki let out a breath and got off of Malekith.  He smiled at Jane.

“Shall we go?” he asked.

Jane wanted to say yes, so very badly.  She could get no words out before Malekith’s fingers twitched, and then he raised his head, and Jane gaped at his terrible grin as he grabbed Loki by the ankle and sunk a knife into the tender flesh.

Loki gasped and fell, clutching the bleeding injury as Malekith forced himself up.  Breathing heavily, he lifted Loki by the front of his shirt.  

“Loki!”  Jane started to run, stopping short as Malekith dropped the knife and now revealed Loki’s gun.  When on earth had he had time to find it?

Nevertheless, with the barrel pressed into Loki’s temple, Jane didn’t dare move a muscle.  The tree branch almost slipped out of her hands as sweat pooled around her palms.

“Stay right there, dear,” Malekith rasped.  “I’ll take care of you in just another second, once I have dealt with him.”

He looked deep into Loki’s eyes.  His bright red, furious face.

“You have conspired against me for years.  You thought I didn’t know it, but I did from the start.  You are a liar and a cheat and a turncoat.  I would be doing everyone a favor by removing you, wouldn’t I?”

He closed in now on the cliff side.  Slowly, he turned, until he had Loki teetering over the edge.  Jane lost her breath.

“So while I know you deserve a better send off than this, because you  _were_  the best man I ever had, I think it best that we don’t waste time.”

And he let go.

Loki stayed for a moment with his feet on the edge, and then the fragile balance broke.

He fell.

“NOOOO!”  

Jane rushed forward, stopped only by Malekith pushing her back.  He towered over her, a dark shadow against the sun.  A truer monster than Jane had ever known.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Ms. Foster,” he said.  He made a good show of sounding solemn.  “I’m sorry you got involved in this whole messy business at all.  Sadly, these things can’t be helped.  You have seen and heard too much for your own good.  Comfort yourself in knowing that I am not a sadistic man.  I will make this quick.”

He raised the gun.  Jane stared down the dark, cold barrel into blackness until she decided that was not the last thing she wanted to see.  Her eyes wandered to the sky.  The seagulls forming a line against the horizon.  The gentle sway of the trees behind her.  The rocky terrain and the hands... the hands...

Hands were clinging to the edge of the cliff, grinding into the dirt as Loki lifted his head.

His eyes found her first, and as he gazed at her, Jane saw nothing but sadness, and a hint of regret.  There might have even been tears that matched her own.  

One hand reached out.  He had only a second before the distribution of weight sent him over for real.  The momentum allowed him to take Malekith by the calf, and as the crime lord tumbled backwards with a look of pure horror, the gun went off in the air and any birds who stayed behind after the first shots were fired came out of the trees in one great burst.

Their cries mingled with Malekith’s screams as he fell, him and Loki getting closer and closer to the water.  When all the birds were gone, there was a great splash, and Malekith stopped screaming forever.  All was silence.

Jane walked on legs like jell-o to the ledge, falling to her hands and knees as she looked down at a wave crashing over the jagged rocks, washing away the blood that colored them red.

“Loki...” she whispered, as she curled up into a ball and unleashed a heavy sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me! 
> 
> Only two chapters left.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go! Can you believe it's almost over?

The sun sat high in the cloudless sky, shining down unhindered on the crowd amassed outside the chapel.  Jane was among them, smoothing down a crease in her dress and pushing back a section of hair that seemed to have come undone from her up-do.  She was starting to regret picking that hairstyle for today, and trying to do it herself instead of going to a professional.  

It couldn’t be helped, and it was the least of her worries anyway.  Over and over again, she went over the steps in her head, the way she had been all last night and the day before.  One foot forward.  The other foot forward.  The first foot forward again.  The second foot forward again…

One would think that one simple walk in a straight line wouldn’t cause this much stress, especially since all eyes would be on Sif once she came out.  Any mistake Jane could potentially make would be long forgotten once they saw her.  So just in case someone else thought it would be funny to watch her scratch herself all the way to the altar, Jane took comfort in knowing at least that.

She was similarly relieved to know that, unlike her first ill-fated attempt at being part of a wedding march, this time she wouldn’t be alone.  At the start of the ceremony, she glanced at Hogun, waiting at her side for their cue to go in.  He looked quite dashing in his tuxedo with his hair pulled back and his face clean shaven.  Though the stoicism remained, he did meet her gaze once, and offered her a small smile.

“You look beautiful,” he said.  “I’m honored to have you on my arm for the wedding march.  Just do me a favor and don’t tell my girlfriend I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Jane said.

When the music started, everyone inside fell silent.  The familiar notes of the processional music rang out through the echoing chamber.  Jane steeled herself, for the moment of truth was upon them at last.  Inside, she knew Thor was taking his place and awaiting Sif.  Jane hid a grin in her flowers.  Thor was about to get the socks knocked off of him when he saw his bride.

Volstagg went first, arm in arm with his wife.  Their seven year old daughter stood back with her basket of flowers.  Earlier, Jane had used the excuse of admiring her pink dress to check and make sure it really was flower petals in there.  Better safe than sorry.

Jane and Hogun were next in line, and in spite of Jane’s fears, they got through it without a single problem.  Jane’s dress didn’t snag, her heels didn’t break, and she never lost balance.  Even her hair was behaving finally.  She stood between Volstagg’s wife and Natasha Barton, watching Volstagg’s daughter, followed by Frigga’s little nephew as the ring bearer.  It was easy to think that all eyes would be on her once the stage fright set in, but then the music changed.  All heads turned to the doors as the bridal march played, and there was Sif.

She was truly a vision in her flowing white gown.  Jane held back a laugh as Thor all but dropped his jaw.  His broad shoulders sagged.  He was not unlike a high school student getting nervous over his first date.  On a man as big and powerful as Thor, it was the funniest look Jane could imagine.

Of course, once Sif was in front of him, he immediately regained his composure.  He was almost prince-like, holding her hands in his as the priest began the sermon.

“Dearly beloved,” he said, and Jane had to hand it to the old man, he projected his voice quite well.  “We are gathered here today in the sight of God to join this man, and this woman in holy matrimony.”

As the ceremony continued, the priest exalted the many virtues of Thor and Sif.  He spoke of the love between them and his belief that this was a match destined for long-lasting happiness.  Though Jane had to wonder if he said that about every couple he married, this time, she agreed wholeheartedly.

“Thor Odinson, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”  Thor was even louder, if possible, than the priest.

“And do you, Sif Jaimeson, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

And so, the rings were exchanged, they were declared man and wife, and they shared what had to be the most passionate kiss Jane had ever seen.  The chapel erupted in cheers and not one of the two hundred guests could stay off their feet.  They applauded wildly for the happy couple, making their way to the doors hand in hand.  The way they looked at each other, it was like nothing else in the world existed.  Jane knew that look.  One time she had seen it directed at her, and she wished she could say it was in circumstances as joyful as these, but she couldn’t.  

There was a hole in her heart that could attest to that.

**

They never found Loki’s body.  

A hundred search parties scoured the ocean near the cliff side where he and Malekith met their ends, but while pieces of the crime lord continued to wash up on shore, not a trace of Loki was ever found.

Nothing had ever been more difficult for Jane than getting back on her feet and into the van when it was over.  The keys were in the ignition, saving her the horror of having to take them off of a corpse.  She drove and drove until something familiar appeared, and from there, it was a short walk to the police barricade that had been set up outside city limits.

The waiting officers took her straight into custody.  Their questions were brief and strictly protocol, and they were perfectly willing to drive her into the city to the station where Thor and Sif paced around the waiting room, wringing their hands in fear for their loved ones.

Telling them what had happened was the hardest part.  Thor had looked so bright when the officer escorted her in, so hopeful, only to have it all dashed when Loki didn’t come in after her.  Jane only needed to look at him with tear stained eyes to confirm his worst fears.  The explanation that followed was short and muted and may have left out some key details, but the gist of it was all the same.

Malekith was dead.  They were safe at last.

Loki was dead.  He gave his life to end the threat and save them all.

The only consolation was that Thor promised to tell his parents himself.  Jane sat in the waiting room, her legs pulled up to her chest and her head buried, as if that could drown out the cries coming from the next room.  She knew she was probably a mess.  Her clothes were ripped, her hair unkempt, and she didn’t think she smelled all that good either.  She couldn’t bring herself to care, though, and nobody around her was callous enough to say anything.  One female cop even brought her a blanket to wrap herself in.  Jane huddled beneath it, it’s warmth doing little to stop her shivering.

In the weeks that followed, Jane felt numb.  Thor gave her time off from work as he took a well deserved leave of absence himself.  They all spent most of their time together, Jane temporarily moving into the guest room of their penthouse while Odin and Thor worked with the police and the FBI to ensure that nothing and no one else posed a threat to their lives.  In the process, many of Malekith’s most loyal underlings were captured or killed.  Those who survived were too low in the hierarchy to pose a threat.  They could all rest easy, was the message that rang loud and clear.

If only they really could.  

It was two weeks before Jane stopped feeling like a guest and started feeling like a freeloader.  Thor could insist all he wanted to the contrary, Jane knew it was time for her to get back on her own two feet.  If the danger had passed, she had a life to go back to.  She had a job to do.  She had bills to pay.  

She had to start living again.

Jane packed her bags, hugged Thor, Sif, and Frigga goodbye, and went home to her apartment.  For the next few weeks before the wedding, Loki was always in the back of her mind no matter how she filled her head with other things.

She thought about him even on the day she went back to work.

Even when she went for her final dress fitting.

Even when Darcy went into labor at the shoe store, and nearly gave birth in a pile of flip flops.

Trying not to think about him was out of the question.  Every time she saw a tall man in a suit, she pictured his face over theirs.  If she spoke to someone with the slightest hint of an accent, she’d hear their words in his voice.  

A weaker person might have gone insane from the stress, but Jane persevered, perhaps in the hope that someday, she could wake up in the morning and not look at the empty side of her bed before anything else.

**

The reception took place in Central Park, in one of the greener fields Jane had ever seen.  Five long tables were filled with celebrating friends and Odinson family members.  Those who didn’t partake in drinks crowded the dance floor.  Thor and Sif had enjoyed their first dance as a newlywed couple just a short time ago, gliding along to a tuneful Scandinavian ballad for all of thirty seconds, before the DJ suddenly switched to rock music.  As the dance floor filled up, the two of them stole away for a game of touch football.  Ruining her dress didn’t seem to concern Sif as she happily ran through the grass with her skirts hiked up and the ball tucked under her arm.

Jane sat near the end of the table reserved for the wedding party, catching her breath after taking part in one round of bridesmaids vs. groomsmen.  With Sif as their quarterback, they had just narrowly scored one point over the other team, but now Jane really needed a break.  She should have followed Sif’s example and worn sneakers under her dress.  Now she was going to have to soak her feet in a hot bath for two weeks before she could walk without pain again.

The game ended as everyone sat down for dinner.  The wedding cake was a monster of a confection.  Seven layers with a pair of viking warriors on top, the bride holding her bouquet in one hand and a sword in the other.  The cake itself smelled chocolate-y when Jane got close to it.  Already, she’d seen Volstagg and his two children eyeing it hungrily.  Volstagg’s wife, clearly used to this sort of thing, directed her family back to their plates full of vegetables and glared them all into submission when they moaned and groaned about it.

Jane picked at her own plate.  The food was delicious, and she’d barely eaten more than a breakfast roll that morning, but every time she picked up her fork, she froze with it over her cooling filet mignon and green beans.  She stared at it while her stomach made slow turns, and then put the fork back down.  After the fourth or fifth time, Jane was all but resigned to ordering pizza later at home.

The main course soon segued into drinks before the cake was cut.  Fandral was having a lot of fun now that he was on his fifth cocktail of the evening.  He had an arm around Thor’s broad shoulders, and he was loudly relating a story Jane could barely understand through his slurring, but that Thor must have heard loud and clear if his red ears meant anything.  Jane smiled, somewhat sadly.  She never stopped thinking about who should have been filling the best man role.

There had been something she had wanted to do since the party started, but before now, hadn’t thought she’d have the courage for.  She had at least one drink in her now, and maybe that was taking care of her nerves the way people always hoped it did.  Jane drank down the remaining wine in her glass, then picked up her knife.  A few clinks were all it took to bring the crowd to silence.  All the eyes on her were worse than at the chapel, because now Jane knew for sure that they were watching her.  Swallowing, she got to her feet and spoke quickly, before she had a chance to get scared.

“Hello, everyone,” she said.  She stopped to clear her throat of a small tickle. “Um… as most of you already know, I’m Jane.  I’m Thor’s co-worker and Sif’s substitute bridesmaid.”

There was a smattering of laughter.

“I uh… I’m sorry to interrupt everyone’s good time, I just had a couple of things that I wanted to say, and I think now might be a good time… actually, it probably isn’t, but this is a wedding and I’m pretty sure that it’s customary to make announcements like this in front of everybody… er, sorry.  I ramble when I’m nervous.”

More laughter.  This time, Jane joined in.

“Yeah, well, I just wanted to say… well, first, I want to say what a perfect couple Thor and Sif are, but I think that might be Fandral’s job?”

She glanced at the best man, who threw down another drink and gave Jane a flirty wink.

“’s okay, beautiful!  I don’t mind!”

This brought about the most laughing so far.  Thor boomed over all of them, and even Sif threw in a chuckle, even as she poked Fandral’s shoulder and gave him a hard stare.

“Thanks, Fandral,” Jane said.  She cleared her throat a second time.  “I also wanted to say how… grateful I am to call people as wonderful as the Odinson family my friends.”

She looked at Thor and Sif, Frigga, and even Odin all in turn.  Most of them smiled back at her, though there was a solemnity to it, as if they knew where she was going with this.

“A few months ago, I met someone in a very unlikely way, and I had no idea that he was going to change my life forever.  He helped me get through a difficult time in my life, and even though things didn’t go the way I had hoped, this time, I know I’m not alone.  I have people I can talk to who understand.  I know that what I’ve suffered doesn’t equal what they have.  They… they found someone they thought was gone for good, only to lose him again right after.  I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like.. but you know what?  I think that’s okay.”

Jane paused to push back some tears.

“I think that… this time, we all have more hope.  We’re looking to the future and feeling a little brighter.  I can only speak for myself, but I feel like when I met him, I found something that I’ve never had before, even when I thought I did.  I… I wish I could say all of this in a way that makes sense, but I don’t really have a way with words, so I kind of just have to wing it.”

Jane’s hands clutched the sides of her dress and looked down.  Her eyes drifted closed for a moment.  She thought she could smell the musky scent of his cologne in the air.

“I just want to say how happy I am to have been a part of this, and to have been able to call Thor and Sif my friends.  I know that today is a day a lot of you spent years waiting for, so while I won’t call it an official toast since I know that’s Fandral’s job, I’d still like to raise a glass to Thor and Sif.”

She picked up her glass, refilled by a passing waiter.  Everyone else followed suit.

“To Thor and Sif,” they all said.

“Yeah, Thor and Sif!”  shouted Fandral.  “Sexiest couple to ever whoop my ass at touch football.  There’s my official toast, now everybody drink!”

Jane nodded her thanks to the tipsy best man and raised her glass to her lips.  The sweet liquid was a boon on her dry tongue and slipped sweetly down her throat.  Though she didn’t and wouldn’t drink nearly enough to get drunk, she did feel a very slight and pleasant buzz from the alcohol.  She looked over at the wide, expanding field, the glass slipping out between her fingers.

It slipped all the way to the table.

Red liquid seeped into the tablecloth, staining the clean white linen forever.  Jane stared at the figure in the distance, talk and dark against the sun.  Looking closer, a long black jacket appeared on a body clothed in suit and tie.  Long black hair was swept back around a regal face with a long nose, and piercing green eyes met hers with a kind of intensity that Jane had come to expect.

She lost her breath.

It couldn’t be real, could it?

He couldn’t really be standing there, alive, safe, healthy as the day they met.  Watching her from afar with the beginnings of a grin that showed off every one of his perfect white teeth.

It just couldn’t be…

Something crashed.  It took all Jane had to turn to Thor.  A plate full of cake was shattered on the ground where he dropped it, and he was staring with his mouth wide open and his face pale white.

He saw it too.

That means it was real.

He was really there.

He was alive.

He was… turning away.

He was  _leaving_.

Jane vaulted over the table, an impressive feat that barely registered in the back of her mind as she ran.  The pain in her feet had vanished, her body pumped full of adrenaline that had her running so fast not even Thor could keep up.  The only thing on her mind was how.

How did he survive?

(They never found his body.)

How was he here now?

(He looked as well as the very first day.)

How could he even dare scare her like that?

(She was going to kill him.)

Jane stopped at the top of the hill, hands on her knees as she caught her breath.  Multiple footsteps grew louder behind her.  Up ahead was a long limousine with two men before it.  Loki approached them.  He stood taller than Jane had ever seen him stand before.  The two men bowed their heads to him as one opened the car door to let him in.  He hesitated, looking back for just a moment.  

For over a month, Jane had replayed that final day so many times that she had it memorized, from Loki waking up in the hospital, to his escape, to her kidnapping, to Kurse’s death, to the second kidnapping, to the cliff side… 

She always had the most trouble with that part.

That last look Loki had given her before he went over had been burned into her memory.  So much had gone into that look, she thought.  All the pain and the anguish Loki must have felt at what should have been the end of his life.  All the regret and things left unsaid.  He’d never been able to finish what he was going to say in the back of the van.  

And now, here he was, and the look he gave her was much different, yet no less telling.

His eyes moved down for a split second.  Without thinking, Jane followed his lead.  What she saw gave her pause, and she stooped down on weakening knees to pick up the flowers and the wrapped box with her name on it.  The other, smaller box, she swept up as well.  Her arms were full and she had trouble standing.  Loki was getting into his limousine.  One of the men was in the driver’s seat and he started the engine.  The car peeled onto the street, driving off until all Jane could see was a black line that disappeared around the bend.

That, at least, was one question Jane didn’t need to ask.  Farbauti’s voice was playing in her head; had been since she saw him stand over those two men like he held their lives in his hands.  .

_‘You kill the king, you become the king.’_

Malekith was dead.  Murdered.  Now there was a new boss in charge.

“Jane!”

Thor strode up beside her, Sif not far behind.  Down below, the entire wedding party was on their feet, gathered together to watch the spectacle and wonder what it all meant.  Jane paid them no mind.  Indeed, she ignored Thor calling her until he was right by her side, his hand on her shoulder.

“Jane… where did he…”

If he wanted any sort of verbal confirmation that this wasn’t just a cruel shared dream, he wouldn’t get it.  He would get the smaller box pressed into his hands, the tag addressed to him and Sif snapping off and falling into the grass.  Thor opened it, pulling out another, velvety box that also had their names stitched onto the lid.  

“What is it?” Jane asked.

Thor had opened the box, but inside was nothing but bare black lining with two circular indents.  Thor covered his mouth, holding back a shudder.

“It’s for wedding rings,” he said thickly.  “My… our parents have one just like it.”

Jane played absently with the soft petals of the flowers, watching for a moment Thor clinging to Sif as the two of them shared tear filled looks.  Jane turned away, offering them at least that little bit of privacy.  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply the scent of the flowers.  It filled her lungs and opened them wide.  She could breathe again.

“He’ll come back,” she said, with a conviction she could never explain but trusted implicitly.

“He’ll have a lot of explaining to do when he does,” Sif said.

“I may have to knock him around a few times for worrying mother,” said Thor.

The three of them shared knowing looks and secret smiles.  Jane held the flowers and her as of yet unopened gift close to her heart.  It beat madly in her ears, as she watched the many cars and taxis line up on the long Manhattan streets.  She saw no trace of that black limousine.  

But someday, some way, she knew she would.  She knew that he’d be there, and then she would understand everything, because he would tell her everything.  She’d never let him rest until he did, and then it would be her turn to tell him.  She was going to have a lot to say, when the day came.

Until then, she returned with Thor and Sif to the reception, and for the first time in weeks, she was happy.  Truly so.

_‘He’ll come back…’_


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

“So, Jane, it appears that in the four and a half years you lived here, you started a collection of... candy wrappers!  How very interesting.”

Darcy rummaged around in the open space behind Jane’s couch, springing up with a wad of brightly colored papers squeezed between her fingers.  She held it in the air like it was the Holy Grail.  Some smaller pieces rained down on her face and into her hair, but she paid it no mind as she hoped over a dislodged cushion to slam dunk her treasure into the nearest garbage can.

“Boo-yah!”  she shouted.  “Hope you weren’t attached to all that.”

“No, you’re fine,” Jane said,  She didn’t bother looking up from the box she was taping shut.  This was only the eighth ground breaking discovery Darcy had made since the start of her ‘behind the couch’ excavation.  

She dove back in, the bottoms of her jeans and sandals visible over the top of the couch.  She hummed disjointed tunes and threw wads of paper over the edge onto the floor by the garbage can.  Only one of them hit the mark, and just by a hair.  The garbage can tipped over and spilled candy wrappers onto the newly vacuumed floor.

“Darcy, could you please throw things away like a normal person?” Jane called.  “I have to leave this place broom swept, and I didn’t ask you to help me pack just so I could lose my security deposit.”

“Would you relax?  I’m just trying to have some fun.”  Darcy appeared behind the couch, hands on her hips.  “I’m a full time parent now.  I don’t get to do that anymore.  Which reminds me.”

Darcy whipped out her phone, punching the first number on her speed dial.  Her volume was up loud enough that Jane could here Ian pick up after one ring.

“Hey there, sexy boy.  Is he awake?”  Ian spoke on the other end, but Darcy turned away, muffling him.  “Okay, put him on... yeah, just put the phone to his ear.”

Darcy ambled over to the door, silent for a few seconds before breaking into the biggest grin.

“Hi, Carter.  This is your mommy speaking.  Can you say ‘mommy’?  ‘Mommy’?  Come on, say ‘mommy’.”

“Darcy, babies that young can’t talk,” said Jane.

Darcy shot her a look.  “Don’t listen to Aunt Jane, Carter.  Mommy knows what a little genius you are.  You’ll say mommy soon.  Maybe then you’ll even say ‘daddy’.”

Darcy continued talking baby talk to her son, taking it to the bedroom so that Jane could pack up her books in peace.  She grabbed another stack off the shelf, placing them in boxes organized by size.  Some of them would be donated to the local library.  Others would go on a truck that would meet her halfway across the country in one week’s time.  Her furniture, much of it belonging to the building manager, would stay where it was, and Jane would forever thank her lucky stars that she’d been able to get that spaghetti sauce stain out of the carpet.  

Moving had not been a hard decision, just an unexpected one.  Unexpected to Thor when Jane handed in her two week notice, and unexpected to Darcy when Jane called her up and asked if she could help her pack once she had her strength back.  Even Jane herself didn’t always know why she was doing it.  Manhattan hadn’t changed.  It was still loud and dirty and smoggy and all the other things that only bothered her in the winter or at night.  She no longer looked over her shoulder every time she went out, thinking that she might see a flash of black and green in the crowd.  She did catch a glimpse of Donald Blake in the local paper.  Something about a promotion he just got to head surgeon.  Jane’s eyes had slid right by his smiling face as she flipped to the entertainment section to see what movies were playing.

Everything had gone back to normal.

Maybe that was why Jane had decided to leave.  The ‘normal’ she used to know before Loki came just wasn’t doing it for her anymore.  She needed a new normal.  A better one.

When the bookshelves were bare, Jane went into the kitchen.  She checked the cupboards for expired food or anything else she wouldn’t be eating in the next few days.  They were sorted as her books were.  Anything unopened would be donated, anything opened would be tossed.  Jane dropped a sealed can of oatmeal in the ‘Donate’ box, and then the intercom buzzed.  

“Who is it?”  she said into the speaker.  

“It’s us,” a deep voice filtered through.

Jane grinned.  “Okay, come up.”

A minute later, there was a knock on the door.  Jane opened it and stood back, allowing Thor and Sif entry.

“I see you have most of the work already done,” Thor said, assessing the boxes stacked in her living space.

“I’ve had a lot of free time,” Jane said.  “Just made a deposit on a small place out west.  It’ll be ready for me to move in as soon as I get there.”

“I still can’t believe you’re leaving,” Sif said, placing a hand on Jane’s shoulder.  “We’re all going to miss you.”

Jane took her friend’s hand and pulled her into a hug.  It wasn’t long before both women had their feet off the ground, courtesy of Thor and one of his patented bear hugs.

“I’ll call and email you guys all the time,” Jane said.  “And who knows?  Maybe when my lease is up, I’ll decide I’ve had enough of the sun and sand.  I could be back here in the cold in time for winter.”

“We’ll hold you to that,” said Thor.

As he put them down, Darcy exited the bedroom, pocketing her cell phone.  She did a double take at the scene. 

“You throwing a party without me, Jane?” she asked.

“Darcy, this is Thor and Sif Odinson.  Remember I told you about them?”

“Oh yeah, right.  I was wondering when I’d meet you guys.”  She threw out a hand to Thor.  “Darcy Lewis-Boothby.  It’s nice to meet you, Thor Odinson.  I see you have much bigger biceps than I expected.”

If Jane had been drinking something, she would have choked on it.

“Darcy!”

Her oldest friend shrugged.  “What?  He does.”

Thor gave a booming laugh and slapped Darcy across the back in a friendly gesture.  To Darcy’s credit, she only pitched forward by half a step.

“And you are truly the comedian Jane described you as,” he said.  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Boothby.”

“Mrs. Lewis-Boothby,” Darcy corrected.  “Or just Darcy.  I’m not choosy.”

“Darcy, did you get my dresser emptied?” Jane asked.  She really hoped that job had been finished already and Darcy hadn’t just spent all that time making ‘goo-goo’ noises to her baby over the phone.

“I did indeed complete my mission,” Darcy said, standing military straight.  “Boss lady, every shirt, sock, pair of pants, and unmentionable has been neatly folded and placed in the appropriate box, which I also took the liberty of labeling for you.”

That last part sparked a hint of suspicion in Jane.  She knew what happened whenever Darcy did extra to ‘try and help’.  For now, she nodded.

“And now that my work is done, I’m going to have to scoot.”  Darcy grabbed her handbag off the couch.  “I’d stick around, but now that Carter’s awake, he’s going to be screaming for milk within the hour.  Call me if you need me.”

“Okay, thanks for the help, Darcy,” Jane said.

“Anytime!”

The door closed.  Darcy fell out of earshot as she entered the elevator.  Now alone, the three of them lapsed into an uneasy silence.  Thor and Sif invited themselves to sit while Jane went to the kitchen to get some drinks.  The pot of water she’d put on the stove for tea was now cold, so she grabbed three sodas from the fridge and set them out on the coffee table.

“So, uh...” Jane tapped her bottle with her nails.  “Have you guys... heard anything?”

Thor and Sif looked at each other.  Jane couldn’t read their expressions and the wait for an answer unnerved her.  Was that too fast to address the elephant in the room?

“We’ve heard plenty,” Thor said, “though only from a secondary source.”

Jane knew exactly what he meant.  For the last few months, there had been intermittent news reports about suspected drug dealers and organized crime leaders found dead or taken in by the FBI, usually thanks to ‘anonymous tip-offs’.  Most of them were declared open and shut cases.  The dead ones all had a laundry list of enemies, any one of whom could have put a bullet in their brains or a knife in their gut.  Investigations went nowhere, and it looked to Jane like the bare minimum was always done to find the killers.  More than once, she’d wondered if someone didn’t have a few ins with the intelligence bureau to keep things quiet, but she didn’t dwell on it.  Every new incident saw one more dangerous criminal off the streets, she reasoned.  And every report was another reassurance that he was still alive and out there.  

“So he hasn’t tried to contact either of you,” Jane said.

“I’m afraid not,” Thor said.  “However, there was a rather elaborate flower arrangement delivered to mother and father on their anniversary.  It was of... unknown origin, let’s say.”

Jane smiled through tears just beginning to form.  She brushed them aside before they could fall.

“Yeah, I... I got something like that on my birthday last month.”  She put her soda down untouched.  “I guess it really will only be when he’s ready.”

Thor and Sif murmured their agreement.

“He’s certainly taking his time,” Sif said.

Thor took his wife’s hand in his.  “Now, Sif, we all know that Loki has a reason for everything he does.  He’ll come when the time is right, and not a moment sooner.”

As Thor reassured his wife, Jane picked her soda back up and took a drink.  Her throat was getting too dry not to.  She replaced it on the coaster, her thoughts a million miles away.

_‘Thor... I hope you’re right.’_

**

The night before the move, Jane reached into the drawer of her nightstand for the only thing she had left in there.  Like every other time, she took a moment to linger on the thick, leather cover of the book.  Her fingers ran with a feather light touch over the stitched constellations and planets, all well proportioned and placed in the most perfect rendering of the Milky Way Galaxy Jane had ever seen.  Every time she saw it, her heart soared, any and all bad feelings draining out of her.  She could be having the worst day in the world, and one look at this book would make it all okay.  It was a constant reminder of the person who gave it to her, left it on a hill top with a bunch of flowers and a promise.

Jane sat up straight in bed, laying the book open to a clean page.  

 _‘Tonight is my last night in Manhattan,’_ she wrote.   _‘I still can’t believe how much time has passed.  Thor and Sif came over a few days ago to help me pack, and they looked so comfortable together, it was amazing.  They came back from their honeymoon almost five months ago, but I feel like they should still be on that cruise ship sailing around the world.  I should be checking my email for another message about how much fun they had sight-seeing in India, or how Thor ate some bad tilapia and had been in the bathroom since yesterday evening._

_‘With each day that goes by, I feel more and more like something has ended.  My life is going in a new direction, and you’ll forgive the cliche, but I know nothing will ever be the same again.  
_

_‘Sometimes, I wonder if I’m making the right choice.  It’s not so much the move as it is quitting my job and having nothing else lined up and no idea what I’m going to do next.  I have enough in my savings account to last me a while, not to mention the inheritance from my parents that I never touched.  I don’t really need to work right away, but I know I need to do something.  I just don’t know what yet.  
_

_‘I’ve been thinking I might go back to school.  When I was a kid, I dreamed of becoming a globe-trotting scientist just like my dad and my godfather, Erik.  I don’t quite know when that changed or why.  If I just got caught up in other things or lost my nerve and decided I should take a safer route.  Probably a little of both, and honestly?  I think I’m done with playing it safe.  I’ve already almost died several times over.  If I can get through that, I can take anything._

_‘So now my bags are all packed, and my flight is booked, and the only thing I left to fear is that he won’t find me where I’m going, but even that is more of a passing doubt in the back of my mind than anything else.  I know that he’ll find me no matter where I go, because he always has before._

_‘Why should that change now?’  
_

**

New Mexico could not have been more different from New York.  In many ways, that was why Jane picked it.  In place of skyscrapers were vast and empty deserts, and where Jane couldn’t go two feet without encountering a restaurant before, here she had to drive two miles into town just to find the local McDonald's.  Her one story rental had an air conditioner that only worked at a certain time of day, and it took her an hour to get hot water out of the shower.

But it also had the biggest backyard Jane had ever seen, and a perfect view of the stars at night.  The whole sky came alive when the sun went down, without any artificial lights to blot it out.  The first night, Jane hadn’t even bothered to sleep in her bed.  She dragged her sleeping back into the yard and laid there all night long, watching every star shine down on her, until she finally fell asleep as the sun came up.

The landlord had promised to come by that weekend to fix everything.  Until then, Jane worked on unpacking, and turning this place into something that was truly hers.  She had a good feeling about it already.  

A week after she moved in, Jane ventured into town for the first time.  She was amazed right away at the difference.  People who would have walked by her in New York without sparing her a glance went out of their way to stop and say hello to her here.  The extra nice ones asked how her day was going, and wished her a pleasant evening before going on their merry way to greet some other perfect stranger.

After driving around for a bit, Jane ate a quick breakfast at the diner while going through the job listings in the paper.  She’d been looking into universities as well, but if she was going to do that, she was going to need a steady paycheck first.  Her resume was newly updated and Thor had promised to sing her praises to any potential employer that called.

After breakfast was grocery shopping.  Jane got through her list in record time and just needed a box of cereal before she could check out.  While examining her list, she completely missed the other shopper coming out of the aisle.  Their carts crashed into each other.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” a male voice said.  “Are you all right?  You’re not hurt, are you?”

He was a nice looking man with a soft face and kind eyes.  He gave his name as Richard and offered Jane many more apologies, all of which she waved off.

“It was my fault,” she said, “Really, it was.  I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

"I still feel responsible.  Would you like some help later carrying the bags to your car?”

“I think I can wheel them out just fine, but thank you very much for the offer.”

She grabbed the cereal, her favorite brand being just within reach, and got on line with Richard right behind her.  The two made small talk as their items were rung up, and though Jane kept her cart, Richard still followed her to the car and helped her load everything into the trunk.

“So you just moved here, huh?” he asked after Jane finished her (very abbreviated) story.

“Yeah,” she said.  “I needed a change of pace.”

“I can understand that.  I used to live in London for work.  I spent almost three years there.”

“Really?  That must have been fun.”

“Well, when it wasn’t raining, I liked it.  Problem is, it was always raining.”

Jane laughed.  “I know the feeling.”

When the last of her bags was stored safely in the trunk, Jane shook Richard’s hand and thanked him once more. 

“No problem,” he said.  “I’m always happy to help.  Say uh... I was wondering.  Would you maybe want to get a drink sometime?”

Jane had been expecting that from the start, and already had an answer ready.  It was kind of a shame; he really was a sweet guy.

“Thank you, but I’m seeing someone.”

He just wasn’t the right guy.

“Ah, I see,” he said with a shrug.  “Oh well.  Worth a shot.”

They said their goodbyes, and Jane got into the driver’s seat of her newly rented car.  She took her time in starting the engine just to enjoy the feel of it.  She’d forgotten how liberating it was to drive herself and not have to rely on cabs.  

She drove out of the parking lot, never once looking back at the black car parked several spaces down, or the driver, watching her with intense green eyes.

**

She got home late, having stayed out an extra hour to drive around town and get a feel for where everything was.  None of her groceries were perishable, so she had no trouble letting them sit in the trunk a while longer while she explored.  Along the way, she found a quaint corner bookstore with a decent selection, and a sandwich shop that made the best turkey subs she’d ever had.

By the time she drove up to the garage, the sun was going down.  The stars were just starting to blink into existence, and Jane thought she might get the sleeping bag back out if the weather stayed warm.

She carried her bags in through the garage entrance two at a time until everything was inside, covering her kitchen floor.  Next came the painstaking process of getting everything into it’s proper place in the pantry, before she could think about getting off her feet and relaxing.  Jane grabbed the first bag and withdrew two boxes of dry pasta.  The way she arranged it, they went on the bottom shelf to the left.

A light turned on in the living room, and a deep voice spoke.

“You kept me waiting, Jane.  That wasn’t very polite.”

The pasta boxes crashed to the floor.

Jane’s body went rigid; she couldn’t even turn around.  She felt like she was twenty pounds heavier.  Time seemed to slow as she finally made herself move.  The process of facing him must have taken her twenty years.

“Then again, perhaps I should have called ahead before making my grand entrance.  I simply have a perchance for a more dramatic approach, as I’m sure you know.”

There he was, standing in her living room.  He was dressed well in a white dress shirt and pants, having forgone the jacket and tie for once.  He walked casually into her kitchen, as if he owned the place.

“I apologize for taking my time in returning to you.  I had a great deal of business to settle before I could.  Enemies to eliminate and loose ends left behind by Malekith to tie off.  I wanted to ensure that there was nothing and no one left to threaten me, so that when I did come for you, I could do it knowing for sure that you would be safe.  It’s all finished now, Jane.  We are finally free.”

He was in front of her, looking down at her.  She craned her neck all the way up to meet his really real gaze and felt his really real hands reach out to take hers.

“Do you have nothing to say?”

The dam broke.  With a strangled cry, Jane leaped into Loki’s arms and smashed her lips to his, kissing the life out of him.  He responded in kind, pushing her against the refrigerator as her hands found their way into his hair.  She combed through his silky locks.  They felt as wonderful as she remembered.   _He_ felt as wonderful as she remembered.

“I love you,” she said when they pulled away for air, “but if you want to get back on my good side, Mister, I’m going to need a much better explanation than that.”

Loki’s head fell into the space between her neck and shoulder.  His laughter sent pleasant vibrations through her heating body.

“Yes, I suppose I do,” he said, “but first, allow me to confess that I love you, too, Jane Foster.”

He pressed a few more soft kisses to her lips and the side of her mouth, working his way up to her ear.

“And then, if you would, allow me to give you a night you’ll never forget,” he whispered huskily.

Jane moaned and clung to him.  “That sounds good... but Loki, this had better be the night of my life.”

“Oh, believe me, my Jane, it will be.”

**

It was.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, my friends, is how it all ends. I hope their reunion was satisfactory to you all, and feel free to assume that Jane and Loki had many more amazing nights like this for the rest of their lives.
> 
> I've got to say, I'm amazed at the response this story got. I would get comments on completely different stories begging me to update this one. Hell, I half expected to get a statement from my bank that said 'here's your monthly summary. By the way, update Streetwalker'. 
> 
> I'm so happy that you all stuck with this story for so long, because I put a lot of work into getting this gone before Christmas. I thought finishing it would be a nice little gift for all of you, and now that it's over, I'll be able to update my other stories, too. I kind of put them on hold so I could finish this, since it's been the closest to completion for a while now.
> 
> That's about all I have to say about this one. It's been a lot of fun, and I want to thank you all again for reading. I hope to see you again when Lokiday and the Ms. Foster series are updated.
> 
> Finally, let me just give you all a link to this song, Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon:
> 
> /watch?v=RF0HhrwIwp0
> 
> If Streetwalker was a movie, this is the song I would want to play over the end credits.
> 
> Have a good night, everyone, and a very Merry Christmas.
> 
> Ciao!


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